Dumbledore's Legacy to the Half Blood Prince
by Reesie6
Summary: This is a Snape centric story, beginning one week after Dumbledore's death, and is compliant with canon. Snape is reminded of his promise to Dumbledore, which he grudgingly carries out.
1. Chapter 1

**Dumbledore's Legacy to the Half-Blood Prince **

**Chapter One: Dumbledore's Last Letter**

Severus Snape groaned as he opened his eyes and shifted his weight on the hard mattress. His dark, lank hair fell back from his face. He stretched, sliding his feet past the bottom edge of the bed and into the cold air. Snape forced himself out of bed and to the window where an owl waited.

He wasn't eating or sleeping too well these days, and his dingy nightclothes billowed unattractively on his scrawny frame as he moved. His skill at Occlumency helped to keep the nightmares at bay after Dumbledore's death a week ago, but the effort was taking a great toll on him. He didn't care too much about loyalty these days, and it took every drop of energy to remain inconspicuous among the Death Eaters and the Dark Lord; to share in their jubilation that Dumbledore was dead. He wished that there had never been a Harry Potter.

The early dawn air hit Snape's face and neck with a cold blast as the window creaked open. He took the letter from the scruffy barn owl and slammed the sash down, narrowly missing the owl. The parchment in his long fingers was blank, and it remained so even after Snape whispered "Aparecium" with a flick of his wand. With sudden realization, he placed the letter on a shabby wooden dressing table, and pointed his wand at it in silence. A silvery-bright, elongated form oozed from his wand tip and lazily flapped its wings. The Patronus landed on the letter and struck with vigor. Its beak tore at the thick parchment held in its impressive talons, and ripped it to ribbons. Snape stood close by and peered down at the letter as the Patronus faded.

The torn edges curled back to reveal bright glowing writing on velvety black darkness. Snape swiftly read the familiar slanting writing.

_My dear Severus, _

_This letter is a reminder to you of your promise to me. You must continue our work, no matter how difficult or impossible it may seem. If this letter has reached you, I have indeed met my end and Fawkes has delivered this to an owl for you. I have also sent Patronus-inscribed letters to each member of the Order, to inform them of your continued loyalties. _

_I need to tell you of something essential. From the day you admitted your part in Voldemort's plan, which led to the murder of James and Lily Potter, I have seen you struggle to control your fear and hatred. I have worried that the necessary limits and restraints I placed upon you would turn you against me. And yes, I have been deeply disappointed by how you have allowed your envy and fear to affect others. _

_I tell you all this now because this is a time for clarity, a time to know your own strengths and weaknesses. To know yourself. You were burdened with much pain as a child, coupled with your mother's legacy and the seduction of Voldemort's promise of power. Hear me... any less of a man than you would still be in Voldemort's thrall. You know I do not write these words lightly. If you have had to end my life yourself, know that this was fate. It was my time. Keep no guilt in your heart for me; it will poison you as surely as Marvolo's ring did me. _

_I trust that you will keep your promise to me to retain your cover as a Death Eater until Voldemort can be destroyed, and to protect the students of Hogwarts, including Harry Potter. You must resist your envy of others. Keep your gaze straight ahead along your own path. _

_And hear me now, Severus. You are brave. You are needed. You have my respect and trust. _

_Yours sincerely,  
Albus Dumbledore_

The bright letters and darkness faded into the air with a fizzing noise, curiously similar to the sound of a Fizzing Whizbee on the tongue. Snape's chest filled with a peculiar pain, and he backed into his bed, sitting down heavily. He angrily squeezed his eyelids shut and cleared his throat. This felt too much like childhood. Dumbledore had been the closest thing to a father figure that he had ever had. But even now, he kept the grief and guilt at bay with thoughts of Harry Potter. Dumbledore's favorite. The great Harry Potter.

He remembered the last time he had seen the boy on the Hogwarts school grounds. Potter had been filled with anger and hate. The two of them opposed, with Death Eaters and Draco fleeing toward the gates. It had been strangely satisfying and exhilarating to be able to show Potter how feeble his skills still were. What gall to have been called a coward by that young upstart, who took after his father in arrogance. The boy knew nothing; he had only begun to scratch the surface of the Dark Arts. Snape would dearly have loved to teach him a lesson or two, but that great brute of a hippogriff had interfered.

Had Dumbledore misplaced his faith in Potter? Or would this boy indeed defeat the Dark Lord, most likely depending on the help of a host of others, and then reap the fame and rewards all for himself? But no matter - Severus Snape knew what he had to do next, and he was ready.


	2. Chapter 2

**Dumbledore's Legacy to the Half-Blood Prince **

**Chapter Two: The Beginning at the "End"**

Snape strode through the rooms at Spinner's End quickly and with purpose. The dust on the floorboards swirled into the air as he moved from room to room. He summoned a few well-thumbed books and his travelling potions kit with a quick jerk of his wand. He knew he would be away for most of the day at the Prince mansion. Stepping into the room that Wormtail had used, Snape checked the Imperviatus spells on the windows. What a relief it had been when the Dark Lord called Wormtail to leave the "End".

Packed and ready, he allowed himself the luxury of stepping out into the small back garden and taking a few breaths of the cool July morning air. As he did so, Snape noticed a glint of reflected light on the ground amid the tangled weeds. By peering at close range he was able to identify a small piece of torn and twisted chicken wire. Wire from a bird coop. Mina's coop. He could almost feel the smoothness of her feathers beneath his fingers, the warmth and rapid heartbeat on his palm. The kestrel had been his only pet as a child. His mind was unwillingly wrenched back to that time.

"Severus!" Eileen felt anxious and tired as usual. She could see her son through the kitchen window. "It's getting late!" The six-year-old waved at her and turned back to the weeds with renewed speed. Eileen was worried that his father would be angry if the gardening wasn't finished.

Eileen Snape was a woman who looked much older than her thirty-five years. Her dark hair was pulled back too tightly, and her heavy, pale face looked like a mask. She was scrubbing the floor in quick automatic strokes with painfully reddened fingers. She knew her boy needed so much more than what he was getting, but she was just so tired; it was just too much. It was all just too much.

She knew she hadn't always been like this, so empty. Why couldn't she seem to make decisions or remember things? Eileen wearily pushed her hair out of her eyes and thought, "What happened to me?" The feelings of vagueness and exhaustion seemed to grow worse each year. When she tried to force her mind to the past, it flinched away in terror. She knew there was something about that school, that Hogwarts, that had scared her so badly she had shut the door on the wizard world.

Eileen knew she had once been a clever scholar at Hogwarts, highly praised for her Defense Against The Dark Arts research essays, and the Captain of the Gobstones club. She had been an ambitious girl and decided that her path to success would be through research and the study of the Dark Arts defenses. When Eileen wasn't winning at Gobstones, she always had her nose in a book - often an ancient tome from her parents' mansion. But beginning in her second year at Hogwarts, her studies were interrupted. She developed a deep, and ultimately deadly, crush on a sixth year boy in her own House of Slytherin. Tom Riddle.

As Severus continued to pull the weeds, his attention was irresistibly drawn towards his bird coop. He still wasn't sure how it had happened but somehow, overnight, his few boards and wire, joined together with five bent nails, had metamorphosed into this creation. It was nothing fancy, but to Severus it was a palace. The coop was straight and strong with a roof, walls, and a door with a two-way flap. The bright nail-heads outshone the new chicken wire, and the flap moved freely under the pressure of Severus's small hand. He still could barely look at it for fear that it would disappear. Mina seemed to like the coop after regarding it for several minutes with her head first cocking one way, and then the other.

He loved seeing her circle the house as she came down to perch on the roof of the coop. Mina had been visiting him since last fall. He had been walking home from school along the sluggish creek and she had screamed "Kee, kee, kee!" from her perch in a stunted oak. He shook with fright, and looked around wildly for the boys that had shoved him earlier that day. And then, amazingly, she flew down onto his arm. He was shocked and barely took in her brown checked plumage and the distinctive stripe below her eye. He felt the warm pulsing weight of her on his arm, gently stroked her feathers with his fingertip, and was drawn in by her large, intelligent, bright eyes. She seemed to trust him.

When his father drove into the garage, Severus automatically looked up with alarm and fear, which intensified as Tobias Snape emerged and walked along the path from the garage to the kitchen door. Fortunately, his father vanished into the kitchen without even looking at him. It was as if Severus didn't exist. Last week, he had walked into the garage to get a broom for his mother and had been startled by seeing his father at his workbench. Severus wanted to say something interesting or smart, but his mind was blank and he finally stammered out a few words in a faint voice. His father had glanced up, and then away in disgust.

Severus's face felt hot with shame as he hurriedly finished his weeding and headed towards the house. It seemed that the only time his father really looked at him was when he was angry. Severus always felt so stupid around him - sometimes he even felt that he couldn't move properly, as though his muscles were stiff and twitchy. He would desperately try to rearrange his face into a neutral pleasant expression when his father was around, but it seemed that there was nothing he could do to avoid the frequently snarled "Get that look off your face!"

Tobias wasn't an uncommon man, but he was an angry one. He blamed his wife for keeping him in this stinking town, and his manager at work for not promoting him. His son was such a disappointment, so scared and silent, a little sissy. So he lost his temper sometimes. He hated the way they looked at him. He didn't hit Eileen and Severus often, but it was a different story with Tobias's verbal poison; he spread it liberally like butter on both his wife and his son.

Tobias's violence was unpredictable, based on some strange circadian rhythm in his psyche. The first time Severus had felt its effect was at one year of age. Eileen was in the bathroom, and Tobias had placed Severus on his baby blanket on the floor while he watched his favorite cricket team play. When Severus crawled off his blanket and knocked a brass vase over with a resounding clang just as the Lincolnshire Lions scored, Tobias snapped. Severus's interest in the rolling vase in front of him was forcibly ended. The red imprint of Tobias's hand remained on the baby's skin until the next day.

There was a fourth member of the Snape household - baby Eve. She had been born just two months ago to an exhausted and wan Eileen and a disgusted Tobias. Severus had expected to dislike this baby based on the shrill noises and horrible smells of other babies he had seen, but as soon as he saw this tiny pink creature in his mother's arms, he was interested in spite of himself. The first day after Eve's birth was loud and long, with his father yelling over the baby's cries, and his mother crying with that hopeless sound he hated more than anything. Late that night he crept in to see her, to really look at her. She turned her head and looked at him with the roundest, bluest eyes. And he was done, lost in that pure gaze. He had to disguise his interest to his father, who seemed to be infuriated by Severus's behavior towards the baby. When he heard his father's heavy tread coming up the walkway from the garage, he found some other occupation quickly.

As Severus came in the kitchen door from the yard, a little grubby from the weeding, he heard yelling in the front room. "How many times have I told you to have dinner ready when I get home?" His father was standing on the worn carpet, yelling at his mother.

Normally, Severus would slink off to his room in the back and try to block out the sounds with his bedclothes, but he heard the baby crying. He went into her room and on tiptoe, leaned over the crib slats to wiggle a ragdoll for her. She turned her head towards him and her fingers curled around the toy.

The light in the nursery darkened as his father entered, filling the doorway. Severus turned quickly in alarm and tripped over the frayed edge of the carpet. His father grabbed him by the arm and shoved him a few feet into the corner of the room.

"Can't you even stand on your feet by yourself? Always in the way!" his father roared as he stood over Severus.

"I... I..." Severus's throat was tight and, to his horror, he felt the tears begin to come.

"Please Tobey, please..." Eileen begged, as she followed Tobias into the room.

Tobias turned to her and sneered. "This is the type of son you have given me...a weak sniveler, a coward, who can't even speak properly. And you! I give you a good home, I work at that bloody office all day, and I come home to this...a lazy wife and two crying brats!"

"Tobey, I'm sorry, just calm down..." Eileen's plea was cut off.

Tobias screamed, "Don't tell me to calm down, you STUPID woman!" She cowered back in fear as he raised his arm. The noise in the small back bedroom increased as Evie began crying again in fright. Severus stayed in the corner of the room, trying to stifle his deep sobs. Unfortunately, this was a night like many others.

Later that night, well after the silent meal, Eileen was checking on Severus in his bed. She tucked in the faded coverlet snugly, and smoothed his black hair away from his face. She murmured a few comforting words as she gazed at her son's face. He started to tell her about the rolling dive Mina had executed earlier that day, but then noticed her blank expression. He knew it was too late. She had left him to retreat back into her vague, empty world.

Snape angrily shook his head to clear it of his memories. Why was this happening, after he had successfully blocked his mind to these memories for so long? The last time he had thought of his childhood was during Potter's Occlumency lessons a year ago. That ungrateful brat...those useless lessons had been such a waste of his valuable evening hours. Snape kept his mind firmly on his hatred of Potter because it was easier than remembering what had transpired at Hogwarts a week earlier.

And with the slightest of movements, Snape turned in place, vanishing with a subtle pop.


	3. Chapter 3

**Dumbledore's Legacy to the Half-Blood Prince **

**Chapter Three: Eileen's Secret**

The Prince mansion sat in a once-exclusive London neighborhood and had been owned by Eileen's parents, the late Frederick and Margaret Prince. The mansion was now run-down and shabby, with most of the antiques and objects of art long since sold. Frederick's great-grandfather, Alwerner Nigellus Prince, had made the family fortune with his famous, if controversial, research. His last published book was titled: "The History and Legacy of Objects Which Confer Immortality - a Tribute to Genius." The attic was still filled with scrolls of his unpublished notes on parchment.

The Princes were an old pureblood wizarding family, and many of them had studied at Hogwarts over hundreds of years. Eileen and her ancestors had all been sorted into either Ravenclaw or Slytherin, and were known for their intelligence and ambition. The grown Princes, while holding their own ideas of the benefits of racial purity, never let politics interfere with their accounts at Gringotts. They maintained their wealth very tidily until Frederick's foolish scheme to mine dragons' gold backfired. He and Margaret began to sell off the family heirlooms one by one when Eileen was still a child. Their hope was that Eileen's intellectual ambitions would restore the Prince home to its former glory.

The inside of the Prince mansion had the ambiance of a tomb. Furniture was shrouded with beige linen cloths, and a thick layer of dust smothered all in a silent world. Fine brocaded wallpaper curled and cracked away from the wainscoting, and showed large sections of still-brightly colored paper where priceless paintings had once hung. Even the grandfather clock made no noise; its magical mechanism had long since failed.

Up in the attic, it was much the same. Deathly quiet also reigned here among the crates and trunks cluttering the dusty floor. An ancient wardrobe stood against the far wall, illuminated only by beams of weak, watery sunlight coming through the small windows.

Suddenly, for the first time in twenty-odd years, the silence was broken. Severus Snape Apparated into the floor space between a wall shelf full of books and two cracked leather trunks adorned with the initials E. P.

Snape gave only a cursory glance at his surroundings before setting to work; he hated this house and its memories. He had spent so many hours alone in this very attic when he was a small boy. He had come back only because of his promise to Dumbledore.

Snape remembered arguing with Dumbledore about coming here. They had been walking near the Forbidden Forest one night last March. Dumbledore had requested that Snape search through his mother's school things in order to confirm Dumbledore's speculations about a connection between Eileen and Tom Riddle. Snape had refused, saying that he was already doing more than the other members of the Order, and that the Death Eaters might discover his duplicity if he made this search. He did not tell Dumbledore his real reason for trying to avoid this task: he did not want to revisit the past. After some heated discussion, Snape finally agreed that he would go on Dumbledore's command.

With efficient, practised movements, Snape cleared more space with a few casual flicks of his wand. He cast an Evadus Spell to purify the air of the dust motes dancing in the morning light. Three dissimilar cauldrons and his potion kit were quickly set up on a worm-eaten table surface. Bottles and vials with contents of every imaginable shape and color were arranged precisely and with great speed.

Snape's hands moved quickly between the potion ingredients, the uneven work surface, and each cauldron. After quickly preparing the Seekardus cloves for grinding and pouring a coppery liquid into a decanter, Snape took up his wand. The muttered incantations were interspersed with changes of color, texture, and sound coming from each cauldron. This was the Potion Master at the height of his skill. The small space held all of the tension of an orchestral crescendo.

When a golden hazy steam had begun to float up from the smallest cauldron, Snape stopped his flurry of movement.

He began to remove the contents of each of the two trunks with a summoning swirl of his wand. Each object wafted up into the air, where it hung for a moment before settling down on the cleared floor space.

Snape drew a complicated "S" design in the air with his wand while saying "Ovit Revilio!" A silvery thread streamed from the end of his wand through the golden haze towards the objects littered on the floor... and dissolved. Snape swore under his breath and riffled through one of the books he had brought with him. He moved half a foot closer to the golden steam, adjusted his wand movement so that the "S" shape had a slightly fatter base, and spoke the incantation again. "Ovit Revilio!"

This time, the silvery thread arced towards a nondescript oak bookend and encircled it. The silvery light grew bright and then faded. The bookend was gone, and in its place was a sheaf of parchment.

Snape's thin mouth twitched in a self-satisfied way. He scooped up the bundle of sheets and scanned each page quickly. The morning light was quickly changing to that of afternoon; time was running short before the Death Eater Council that evening.

Every inch of each page was covered with second year Herbology notes. There was nothing there of interest. Snape cast a rapid sequence of charms on the parchment in his hand, beginning with the Specialis Revelio spell. No change. His face contorted in disappointment, but inwardly he was enjoying the challenge. Snape forced his mind to quiet down and empty of all emotion. He cupped his hand over the top sheet and felt the emanations of energy. And an idea slowly came to him.

Snape emptied the smallest pewter cauldron with an impatient "Evanesco" and tipped in a selection of ingredients from his work surface. He added one strand of his own greasy black hair, and the cauldron contents began to issue a sickly green steam. As he held the sheets over the steam, the writing on the top page slowly changed in format from class notes to journal entries.

Snape's eyes glinted as he sank onto a nearby chair with the journal in his hands. He flipped through the entries until a single word popped out at him like a beacon, over and over again. Horcrux.

So Dumbledore had been right. Snape shook his head in wonder as he began to read through the entries, which were followed by a fat wad of research notes and curse recipes. The handwriting in the first entry was a more excited version of the small, neat penmanship from the Herbology notes.

* * *

_March 31, 1944  
You'll never guess what happened to me today! My Defense Against The Dark Arts essay was the best in the entire second year - not that surprising - but in addition to that, I won FIRST PLACE for the entire school! I received my prize from Headmaster Dippet himself, and those Ravenclaw girls looked just green! Professor Merrythought said this had never happened before! _

_Professor Slughorn invited me to one of his parties tonight. He told me that my essay reminded him of my great-great-grandfather's genius, and that he is sure that I'll go far in my career. But best of all... Tom Riddle was there! And he talked to me! He asked me all about my paper and my great-great-grandfather! Wait until the other second year girls hear about this; they are dying to get to know him. He always hangs out with his own group. I know some of the kids don't like him. They're just jealous. Before I got into bed tonight and started writing this, I looked in the mirror and my face was so pink - I can't believe he talked to me. _

_April 2, 1944  
Scuttling Skrewts! Tom and I talked in the common room tonight! He wanted to talk to me in private. He is so handsome. He wants me to help him with a project for one of his NEWT classes. Tom said that the others are really jealous of him and will try to copy his project if they can, so I need to keep it a secret. He said he's so lucky he met me! He wants me to do some research at home about Horcruxes; he was amazed when I told him I already knew what they were. He said that Madam Pince wouldn't let him read any of the books in the Restricted Section just because he laughed at her one time! That old lemon!  
Eileen Riddle  
Eileen Prince Riddle   
Mrs. Tom Riddle  
Mrs. Eileen Riddle _

_April 16, 1944  
I'm finally back here - with Tom (!) - after Easter holiday. It was pretty easy to go through our attic at home to see what information I could find, but the hard part was trying to sneak Mum's Owl Key for the Adult section of the Gutengamot Research Library out of the house. I needed to find the sources my great-great-grandfather had used and check for any current research. I found some material on how to protect the Horcruxes once they are made - ordinary Dark curses can't be used because they are too harsh on the piece of encased soul. Tom didn't know either; he was really surprised when I told him. I had organized all my notes with references and an index for him, and he was so excited he almost grabbed them from me! I was so disappointed when he couldn't stay and talk. Horcruxes are such Dark magic; I'm glad there aren't any today. Olovram the Feared made the last known one in 1792, and it was destroyed in 1797. _

_April 20, 1944  
I am so tired! Professor Merrythought was really grouchy with me when I fell asleep today during DADA, but Tom wanted some more information on Horcrux preservation. I used Mum's Owl Key, but it took forever for the owl to deliver the scroll last night. _

_April 29, 1944  
I was wearing my birthday cameo bracelet from Mum today, and Tom told me I looked really pretty! I know I'm not, but I really feel like I am when I'm with him. He seemed rather bored at first, but became really excited when I told him that my bracelet had belonged to Mum's aunt, and it had once belonged to Rowena Ravenclaw. It holds five cameos and each is a lovely alabaster profile on a blue stone. Tom wanted to hold the bracelet... and then he also held my hand! He told me he was almost done with his project. I promised him I would finish searching the last bit of Library archive this week. This research is really starting to scare me though. I'll be glad when we can just talk about other things. _

_May 6, 1944  
I got a letter from Mum today. She said she almost sent a Howler, but she didn't want anyone to know my grades were slipping. She said she got an owl from Headmaster Dippet about my last grade in Astronomy. She told me to focus only on my classes STARTING RIGHT NOW, that I wasn't at Hogwarts to have fun. I told Tom that I had to stop meeting him so late in the common room. He looked angry at first, but then he seemed calmer when I said I could meet him a couple more times. _

_May 12, 1944  
Tom and I met again tonight. I gave him the addendum notes I found on the Despiritus and Inferius curses but he didn't say anything, he just grabbed them. He didn't even look like himself; his eyes looked a little weird. He seemed very happy, but at the same time kind of scary. I thought he would tell me about his weekend trip to Hogsmeade, but then he became really mean. I only told him that his ring looked different. I couldn't see the Peverell Coat of Arms on the surface of the stone anymore. I felt really scared, but he apologized and asked me to meet him tomorrow night and that he would tell me all about his weekend. _

_Tom looked so different. And his ring is different; I know it is. After tomorrow, I'm not going to meet him any more. I don't want anyone to see my research notes. And no one will. I should have known I wasn't pretty enough for him._

* * *

The last meeting between Tom Riddle and Eileen Prince was a memorable one, if only for Tom. He attempted to cast a Memory Charm on Eileen, similar to the one he had placed on Morfin Gaunt a few years before, and was very surprised when she blocked it. His second attempt was made with all of his strength of mind, coupled with the panic of thinking his plan was in danger. The spell was a brutal one and had some serious side effects.

Eileen's memory of the Horcrux research and her journal was erased, and she was left with a deep terror of Tom Riddle, a terror that had blossomed into a distrust of the wizarding world as a whole by the time she finished her education at Hogwarts. Her keen intellect was also dulled by the charm, causing a vagueness of thought that grew worse every year. Her ambitious nature became limited to playing Gobstones, and she became the captain of the Hogwarts school team in her fifth year, right before she did abysmally on her OWLs.

By the time Eileen left Hogwarts with a disappointing single NEWT in Potions and met Tobias Snape at the seaside, Frederick and Margaret Prince had gone from shock and rage to resignation. They tried to keep up appearances with announcements in the _Daily Prophet _of their daughter's marriage and the birth of their grandson, but in truth they wanted nothing to do with a Muggle convert.

And no one ever found the bracelet.


	4. Chapter 4

**Dumbledore's Legacy to the Half-Blood Prince **

**Chapter Four: Crucible of the Dark Lord**

Snape pushed aside the vulnerable image of his mother at Hogwarts; he would deal with that information later. He needed to maintain his customary impenetrable emotional wall as he would be in the company of the Dark Lord that evening. Snape began to read the sheaf of research notes that lay under the journal entries. He was amazed at the calibre of the notes his mother had written. The paper was better than the seventh year DADA student essays he had graded last year. The interpretations, comparisons, and extension of research both back and forward in time were all exemplary.

Snape read through the detailed notes and committed them to memory. He then re-enchanted them back into Herbology notes, and finally back into the wooden bookend, which was Banished to the trunk. A Patronus seal was used to secure the battered leather trunk, which still smelled musty even after its airing. Snape mused that Dumbledore's ingenuity with devising new uses for a corporeal Patronus over the years had been quite astonishing. His kestrel Patronus landed on his wrist before twinkling out of existence.

Snape efficiently packed up his potion kit and books with a summoning spell, and then cast an Evomeratus Charm to remove the imprint of recent magic. As he surveyed the attic space to ensure he was leaving no trace, his eyes stopped on a crumpled photo under the table he had just cleared.

He picked up the photograph by hand to avoid spilling more magic into the air and smoothed it out as he stared at the moving figures.

The black and white photo showed a woman with two children, one a scrawny, dark haired boy of about six or seven, and the other a tiny blonde toddler, hanging onto her mother's knee as the boy tickled her. The baby's mouth moved in a silent giggle as she looked up at her brother's face. She was wearing a little frilled shirt adorned with rosebuds. The woman picked absentmindedly at the hem of her dress as she gazed at her two children.

Snape let the photo waft to the floor in a series of little zigzags as his hand twitched. His grandmother had taken the picture a few weeks before THAT day.

The day had started off well. Seven-year-old Severus had come home from primary school, eager to show his grammar paper to his mother. Above the carefully printed sentences was a large gold star. During recess, the plump girl that sat behind him had smiled when he caught her eye. And best of all, David Binson's gang had not ambushed him on the way home from school. Things were looking up.

All thoughts of his day disappeared when he stepped through the ill-fitting door at Spinner's End. A tall, dark-haired stranger, enveloped by a black velvet cloak, was talking with his mother in the shabby front room. Eve, now thirteen months old, was taking some tentative steps and crowing with delight at her progress. She was wearing her pink rosebud shirt.

When the stranger looked up at Severus, the boy gasped. It was if Severus had been plunged into ice-cold water - he felt fear greater than any he had ever felt. The man grinned, a gruesome rictus that seemed to split his face into two halves.

Eileen had none of her normal vagueness; she was rigid and white with fear. She asked Severus to go into his room in a high-pitched, jerky voice, but the stranger interrupted her and beckoned to him with a thin, white hand. The man's features seemed blurry somehow, as if they had melted in the sun, and the whites of his eyes were a ghastly red. As Severus took slow, unwilling steps towards the outstretched hand, the man took him by the upper arm and looked deeply into his eyes. The white hand on his arm felt cold but burned like fire. The stranger grinned again, as if surprised and pleased with Severus.

With greedy excitement, the man asked, "Your second child is worthless - a common Squib - but I can sense great talent in this one... has he been introduced to...?"

"Never...and he never will be!" stammered Eileen. She was shaking with fear, but the look on her face was adamant.

A very ugly look spread across the visitor's face, but it vanished a moment later. He added a silken threat, "Now, now...you know how _deeply_ I care about you, my dear. You are very special to me."

The room seemed much lighter after the cloaked man had left. When Severus checked outside, there was no sign of the visitor, but he did notice his father, newly arrived, fumbling with the door flap of Mina's coop. The kestrel was flying low, in agitated circles. Her nest in the coop was filled with three perfect, speckled eggs.

Severus was driven past his fear to speak to his father. "Dad... what are you doing? Is it broken?"

"This bloody bird, making messes in the back yard, dive-bombing me... I've had it." As Tobias stepped back from the flap he had jammed, he covered his head against Mina's beating wings. "THAT'S IT!" he yelled, and grabbed a broom. Mina was now on the flap's perch, hopping about as she frantically pecked the entry in a vain attempt to open it. Severus stood in horror, mouth open, as he watched.

The second violent jab of the broom hit Mina dead-centre, crushing her against the coop, and her lifeless body fell to the ground. Tobias grunted with achievement as he discarded Mina's body in the garbage bin. He hauled the sobbing Severus into the kitchen with him.

Tobias swore as he heard Eve's wails in the front room. Severus and his father could see Eileen bent over the baby, who had knocked her forehead against the wooden couch leg. Severus had never seen his father look quite so angry. Tobias walked heavily towards Eve, knocking Eileen out of the way. He had just swung Eve roughly up into the air when there was the sound of a tremulous voice behind him.

"PUT HER DOWN!"

With an expression of disbelief on his face, Tobias turned and saw his small son glaring at him with his hands in fists by his sides. The baby in Tobias's arms reached out to Severus as she sobbed his name. Eileen looked from her husband to her son with shock and fear on her face. The energy in the room seemed to coalesce as Tobias took a step toward Severus. Purple and orange streaks, shimmering like the Northern Lights, hovered near the ceiling.

As Tobias moved toward Severus, he brushed by the heavy mahogany cabinet. There was a starburst of green light. Tobias gripped the cabinet shelf apparently to keep himself from falling, and with an agonizingly slow and ponderous sway the cabinet began to tilt away from the wall. When the horrendous crash had ebbed into silence, Severus could see that all was still. There was complete silence for a moment.

Eileen rushed towards her husband and child and wrenched the heavy cabinet off them with a breathless scream. She feverishly checked them for any sign of life. Severus stood behind her, stunned, and stared at the scene.

"Evie...? Mum...?"

Eileen turned to Severus and screamed, spittle flying from her mouth. "What have you done... what have you done? You monster!" She began to sob, holding her baby in one arm and clutching at her husband's shirt with her free hand.

Severus came a few steps closer, still in shock, with silent tears streaming down his cheeks. "Mum...?"

Eileen pushed herself to her feet and grabbed her son by his collar. She pushed him violently down the hall and into his room, and closed the door with a final slam. It seemed to Severus that she could not bear to look at him.

Outside, leaning indolently against the window frame, Voldemort smiled to himself as he replaced his wand in his pocket.

It was the last time Severus's mother touched him for many months. She slept most of the time and, when awake, moved through her life as though she were an automaton. Both the house and Severus soon began to show signs of her neglect. The smells of unwashed clothing and rotting food in the refrigerator intensified in the small house. Thick, ugly weeds choked the flowers in the small garden.

For the first few days after "the accident," Severus found that he could barely stand to be alive. He wanted to erase himself, to cease to exist. While he waited in vain for some sign of forgiveness from his mother, he felt as if the excruciating pain would eat him alive. In his mind, he saw his father and Eve fall onto the floor over and over again. He heard Eve's voice calling out to him to save her. And he knew he was a murderer. If not for him, his father and his sister would be alive.

Severus finally made himself clean out Mina's coop and bury her eggs, now grown cold. The tears trickled unnoticed down his cheeks as he picked up each speckled egg. He remembered how Mina would nudge her eggs before settling down on them contentedly. He began to wish he were dead.

Both his teachers and the kind plump girl in his class seemed confused at first by the changes in Severus, and then later expressed impatience with his increasingly sullen attitude and lack of personal hygiene.

Severus learned that poor grooming had one big advantage: it kept most people away. And the people that were attracted, like vultures to a half-dead sheep, were only too ready to add to the hatred that Severus already felt for himself. David Binson and his friends first seemed excited with this apparently vulnerable target, but Severus no longer reacted easily; it was only when they called him a coward that a stricken look appeared in his eyes. One of his teachers called him "worthless" when he accidentally spilled the feed for their classroom guinea pig. Severus did his best not to react; he simply absorbed the damage of the daily insults and shoves. He couldn't take a chance of repeating what he had already done. He believed his mother. He knew he was a monster.

Eileen sent him to her parents by train as soon as the school holidays began, and soon he was spending all of his weekends at the Prince mansion as well. The Princes did not appear thrilled to see this unkempt, unattractive boy, but they tolerated his presence. On the first day with his grandparents, they complained about his mother and how she had ruined all of their hopes. They also showed him her school trunks in the attic and informed him that he was a wizard, and what that really meant. The two violet-cloaked Princes continued to maintain quite a physical distance between themselves and their grandson, as if he were contagious, and looked as if they smelled something rotten whenever he inadvertently came near. Despite their disdain, they informed him he would likely be going to Hogwarts when he was of age, and supplied him with a beginner's _Primer for Elementary Magic_ and Eileen's discarded wand to practice with. And finally, they left him alone with relief stamped on their faces.

Severus began reading the primer in a desultory way up in the attic; he was just relieved to be away from the gloom of Spinner's End and the tensions of school. After reading _Lesson One: the Principle and Application of Colour Conversion_, he changed the text color of a practice paragraph using the borrowed wand and a muttered "_Pigmentus_".

And for the first time in many days, he was unaware of his pain. He was absorbed in what he was doing and had regained a tiny bit of himself in the process. And an odd thing happened: he began to carve out the beginning of a niche for himself. With that first moment of success, he had found a way to distract himself from how very unlovable he was. And he had found something he could do well.

Over the next four years, Severus learned a great deal of magic in the Princes' attic, including many Dark curses from Alwerner's books and scrolls. He developed a belief that this was his destiny - that the Dark magic had created him. He could not think of any other reason for what he had done to his family. Gradually, he found that life had become bearable again; empty, but bearable. By the time the letter from Hogwarts came to the Prince mansion, where Severus was staying for the summer holidays, he was only too ready to go.

The beginning of his journey to Hogwarts sealed Severus's fate. He had just found himself a seat on the Hogwarts Express as far away from the other children as possible. He was excited about going to a place where he could use magic and develop his skill. He felt a small kernel of hope that he might fit in among wizards.

Severus was proud of the initials "S.S." that he had magically affixed to one of the Princes' spare trunks, even though it and all of its contents - robes, books and supplies - were secondhand items. His wand alone was new: ironwood and unicorn hair, 11 1/8 inches long. It was an unexpected gift from Minerva McGonagall, the Transfiguration professor, who had come to acquaint him with his preparation for Hogwarts. His situation of having a magical mother who refused to have anything to do with magic and grandparents who were indifferent to him had made Severus a special case. Professor McGonagall's no-nonsense manner had agreed with him much better than a cheery approach would have.

Severus was sitting in his compartment when a handsome, black-haired boy about his age burst in. The contrast between the two boys was extreme. Severus's pinched face was white from so many days in the Prince attic, his black hair was unkempt and greasy, and his robes were so faded they looked brown. The other boy, now excitedly peeking through the open door and down the corridor, was the picture of a healthy youth in satiny black robes and a crisp white collar. Severus could see the expensive shine of the boy's leather shoes.

"Hey, mate!" said the newcomer to Severus. "Have you seen anyone run down the corridor?"

"No, I haven't. Get out of here!" growled Severus, trying to look tough. He wanted this smiling boy to leave. He was everything Severus was not.

"That's a fine way to talk. What's your problem?" His face grew serious as he gave Severus an appraising stare.

The next instant, the partially closed door slammed open and a second boy sprinted into the compartment. "I've got you now, James! Take that!" yelled the boy, aiming his wand and shouting "_Conglacio_!" This boy had a wild, excited look to his face and he was laughing with enjoyment. His aim was rather poor, though, and the freezing hailstones that had materialized out of thin air smacked into both James and Severus.

James yelled, "Sirius, you bloody idiot!" and dodged the hail with a wide grin on his face. With a wave of his wand, he conjured a slushy water balloon and sent it towards the laughing Sirius. Severus was repelled by the sound of their laughter, and reacted from a deep core of fear inside of him. He wanted these boys to leave NOW.

As one of the hailstones struck between his collar and his neck and melted into an icy trickle down his back, Severus stood and, without thinking, cast "_Dolorata_!" The second boy immediately doubled up in pain with stomach cramps. Severus felt a little horrified at what he had done, but it felt good to have gained some control.

When James realized what had happened, he turned to look at Severus with a puzzled look. "What the bloody hell? Look, he didn't mean to hit you with that ice! Pack it in, all right?"

Severus stood defiantly still.

With another look at his friend, James pointed his wand at Severus, and started to say "_Embera_...". He was interrupted when Severus rapidly aimed a curse at him, which caused a hot, painful sensation on his wand hand. James looked down to see a blistered burn on his hand, and then looked back at Severus with an angry expression. He pointed his wand again and said, "_Tarantallegra_!" Severus started to lurch around as his legs danced crazily. James laughed at the sight.

The next moment, a plump witch with untidy blonde hair and an agreeable face poked her head into the compartment, having been alerted by all the commotion. She looked surprised to find the three boys in varying states of distress, and appraised Severus with a curious look. She quickly ended the effects of the various spells with a firm "_Finite Incantatem_" and introduced herself as Professor Sprout. After asking their names, she continued, "I am simply appalled at your irresponsible behavior. You will each report to me for detention at 8 o'clock tomorrow evening. If ANY of you even PICK UP your wand during the rest of this trip, I will see that you DEEPLY regret it." She told James and Sirius, in no uncertain terms, to return to their compartments IMMEDIATELY. With a scowl on her pink-cheeked face, the professor stalked out of the compartment.

Severus sat glowering on the seat next to the window. He kept his gaze on the scenery flying past him. After all, it was all _their_ fault.

Before leaving, Sirius turned and stared at Severus. He tenderly rubbed his stomach as he said, "He's mental. Dark curses! James, what do you want to bet that he'll be a Slytherin?"

James also turned to glare at Severus and said in a low voice, "You don't know what you're in for, mate. Bloody Death Eater!" Severus felt his eyes well up with tears; he knew now that he wouldn't truly fit in anywhere.

The sullen boy's unshed tears were reflected in the window, and Sirius called out "Snivellus!" in a mocking tone. He followed James out into the corridor and down towards their own compartment.

As the years passed at Hogwarts, Severus Snape developed a life in which he was able to leave his hatreds and fears behind only when he was absorbed in his studies. This also was the only area in which he could bear to receive any encouragement or praise. He worked hard to be the best in his classes, but more often than not James Potter or Sirius Black surpassed him easily. They exhibited their talent with effortless grace in class, laughing as they played jokes on each other. He saw their popularity and light-hearted approach to life as arrogance, even though he was so envious of those qualities that it felt as if he were being eaten alive. Everything seemed to come so easily to them. Severus felt a deep, festering anger each time he saw them receive glowing praise from the teachers and admiration from their classmates.

At first the two Gryffindor boys, often joined by onlookers excited by the hunt, seemed to think it was their mission to torment Severus. Instead of being protected by his defensive Dark curses, his use of them seemed only to further provoke James and Sirius. He grew to hate the two boys, and finally all Gryffindors, with an intensity that engulfed him. Severus took what he had learned as a child and twisted it into a deranged fanatical hatred. He made choice after choice to focus on the wrongs that were done to him and turned a blind eye to any scrap of compassion, trust and affection. He was starving in the middle of the feast that was Hogwarts because he refused to pick up a spoon.

However, Severus did form an alliance with some of the other Slytherins who had no desire for actual friendship. It was a mutually useful relationship, nothing more. The other Slytherins soon found they had a reliable source for innovative jinxes or potions. And in turn, Severus learned many things, including the cunning and very delicate art of placing blame on others - and exposing enemies. When one of these efforts led to his near-encounter with a werewolf, he found that the worst imaginable thing had happened. He had incurred a life debt to the person he hated most, James Potter.

Each choice Severus made took him closer to Voldemort. By the time he left Hogwarts with eleven NEWTs, his spirit had become so dulled that he didn't even blink when he made his oath to the Dark Lord. He had automatically held out his left arm for the painful brand of the Dark Mark, and his only thought was, "This is my destiny." He had completed the journey that was forged by the Dark Lord eleven years earlier in the front room at Spinner's End.


	5. Chapter 5

**Dumbledore's Legacy to the Half-Blood Prince **

**Chapter Five: The Werewolf and the Potions Master**

The kestrel Patronus flew upwards in ever-widening circles until she disappeared into a brilliant cumulus cloud tinged with smoky blue. Snape's face felt cool in the late afternoon breeze as he watched her from the Prince mansion's parlour window. He could smell the perfume of the gardenia shrub sprawling untidily below the window. His eyes were tired and red, and his body ached in every angular corner. Snape had received Dumbledore's letter just yesterday morning at Spinner's End, but it seemed like months ago.

Earlier today, he had had the immense pleasure of teaching Wormtail various Conservation potions at Spinner's End. It seemed that Voldemort had noticed some subtle changes in his physical form and he wanted this concern addressed immediately. Wormtail was the obvious choice to make the twice-daily potions since he was near the Dark Lord at all times. The delightful task of teaching Wormtail had been given to Snape at the Death Eater Council last night.

The Dark Lord's presence had been grueling to endure. Before Apparating to the Council, Snape had felt scattered and drained. He had been bombarded by unwanted memories and emotions since he had killed Dumbledore but had been able to block them fairly effectively. Now, after Dumbledore's letter, Snape found that gaping holes had been torn into his normally impervious defenses. Would his powers of Occlumency be strong enough to hide his vulnerability from the Dark Lord?

When he arrived, Bellatrix and Rodolphus Lestrange had already taken center stage, describing the chaos they had caused for a blood traitor earlier that week. When Snape failed to make his usual condescending remarks to her, Bellatrix had shot him a searching look. He knew that if she sensed any weakness, she would be after him like a Horntail out of hell.

After a few moments, he smiled lazily, leaned towards her and murmured, "It sounds like a great success, Bellatrix; luckily, there was no _prophecy_ involved." Bellatrix's face turned an unbecoming pink with fury.

Smirking, Snape turned his back on her sputtered reply and walked across the room towards the Dark Lord. His Master was sitting on a throne upon a dais. His exquisitely woven black velvet robes contrasted with his bone-white, misshapen face.

The Dark Lord's deep-set, glittering eyes studied Snape as he approached. "Severus, there you are. I thought I was going to have to send out a _personal_ invitation."

Snape bent into a deep bow. "Please accept my apologies, my Lord."

The voice issuing from the ghastly, cavernous mouth continued in an impatient hiss. "Do not forget who your Master is. I hope you have not decided to rest on your laurels after ridding us of that weak fool Dumbledore. Or are you missing your cosy Hogwarts dungeon?" The words were dragged out unpleasantly, like a snake slithering on stone.

Snape felt a few foreign tendrils search their way into his mind as the Dark Lord looked deeply into his eyes. He made an immense effort to keep his mind quiet and empty, seasoned only with a faint flavor of fear for effect. The simpler Occlumency method of blocking his mind to Voldemort's Legilimency efforts would only make the Dark Lord suspicious. "I am your faithful servant, my Lord; I wish only to do your bidding."

Snape listened attentively as the Dark Lord described what he wanted Snape to teach Wormtail. Wormtail grimaced in an appeasing manner every time he was mentioned.

At the end of the Council, Snape Apparated to Spinner's End and collapsed. He knew he could not maintain his cover indefinitely. He had barely slept, and had then taken out his irritation on Wormtail while demonstrating the potions. He felt his usual mix of anger and disgust towards the short, scruffy wizard, but made sure not to underestimate him. Wormtail had quite a potent bite for so weak a wizard.

Immediately after Wormtail departed, Snape collected a few supplies, checked the powerful Protection Charms surrounding his home, and Disapparated to the Prince mansion. He hoped this would be the last visit. He did not want to revive any _more_ memories.

Snape turned away from the parlour window and surveyed the room. His visitor should be here momentarily. He had left the attic so as to be near the hearth; his Intruder Anti-Apparition Jinx made Floo powder necessary for invited visitors.

A green fire blasted into existence in the fireplace of the Prince mansion, and a twirling figure stepped out and brushed himself off. Silvery gray flakes of ash floated out to form a new layer on the existing dust. The newly arrived wizard looked tired and thin. He had greying tawny hair and carried a large, bulky satchel. Snape was surprised to see that Remus Lupin's clothing was vastly improved from the usual mended, threadbare robes; these robes were woven from quality material and fitted well on Lupin's shoulders. His collar was a rich shade of blue. His face, too, didn't appear quite as thin as usual. Perhaps pathetic Nymphadora Tonks had finally got her wish? Snape had noticed the signs of a thwarted love between them beginning almost two years ago; the thought of them together turned his stomach.

The two powerful wizards eyed each other warily. Snape drawled, "Be on your guard, Lupin, the house's ancestors may reject one with blood so...tainted."

"Hello, Severus. Unfortunately, your welcome is up to your usual standard." Lupin's reply was more biting than Snape would normally expect. "Will this take long?" His eyes were alive with anger and impatience.

"I certainly hope not." Snape indicated the stairs to Lupin and led the way up to the attic. Once there, he quickly checked the contents of his steaming cauldrons before performing the incantations to reveal the Horcrux research. Snape added the appropriate flourishes to showcase his talent for Lupin. _He_ was the master here.

Snape turned to face Lupin and held out the research notes with a contemptuous bow. Lupin did not move, but continued to stare at Snape in a challenging manner.

As the silence grew, the tension between the two men became more and more palpable. It increased to an almost unbearable level.

Snape broke the silence first. "This is the information Dumbledore had asked me to find for the Chosen One," he sneered. He seated himself at a huge, ornate desk, casually dropped the notes on its surface, and sent out a chair for Lupin with a wave of his wand.

Lupin slammed the chair back to its original spot with a violent jab of his wand. He took a few steps toward Snape and ground out, "I need to know why I should believe you - why I should believe anything you have to say."

Snape looked up with surprise. This angry Lupin was an unknown quantity. He should be down on bended knee with appreciation for Snape's efforts. What an ingrate. No one had ever acknowledged the efforts that Snape made for Dumbledore.

Lupin closed his eyes for a moment before speaking again in a quiet, controlled tone. "I need to know why Albus trusted you. This is not a game, Severus - I need to know who you are."

"Why Lupin, I never knew you cared." Snape leaned back in his chair, a sarcastic smile playing on his face. He was enjoying this. "I assume that you received our dear headmaster's letter proclaiming my innocence? Have you decided to disregard his last wish?"

"HE WROTE THAT LETTER BEFORE YOU TOOK HIS LIFE! Why should I believe anything you have to say? I will not put all of us in danger based on any...information you have to offer. I will not take that chance."

Snape spread his hands apart in a contemptuous manner over the sheaf of notes. "It is your choice, of course."

"No, Severus. The choice is yours. Show me why you are trustworthy. Show me why I should use the information you have uncovered." Lupin's voice was quiet but very firm.

Snape felt exasperated beyond endurance. This should have been the easiest part of the whole plan - handing the information to Lupin. Why wouldn't the fool just take it? The silence grew deafening until Snape growled, "What do you want from me?"

"You are a powerful Occlumens, Snape. I can't be sure of you by using Legilimency. I can't be sure of what happened on that tower. So I borrowed this." Lupin pulled out Dumbledore's heavy Pensieve from his satchel. "I would like to see your memory renouncing Voldemort before you came to teach at Hogwarts. I need to see why Dumbledore has trusted you for all these years."

Snape exploded up from his chair, his black eyes flashing with rage. "HOW DARE YOU ASK THIS? No one can blame me if his letter isn't good enough for you. I knew this would happen. I have never been good enough for any of you, although I have slaved at that wretched school, teaching those brainless pups and carrying out Dumbledore's most elemental errands! I have had to hide my talents as the _lowly potions master_, and yet have had to use more ingenuity than any of you to maintain my position with the Dark Lord. But even Dumbledore only had eyes for Potter after he came to Hogwarts. Even Dumbledore..."

He stopped, breathing hard, and leaned against the desk. His tirade was over. He expected - he wanted - an answering anger from Lupin, but instead there was a pause.

"I think that much of what you have said is true. You do have great talent, and you have been in a very difficult position."

Snape started to snarl, "Don't humour me..." but something stopped him. In his mind, he saw Dumbledore's distinctive handwriting: "Keep your gaze straight ahead... you must resist your envy of others... you are needed."

And after many moments, a very resentful Snape said harshly, "I will do what you ask." He felt utterly defeated. His worst fear was of being exposed for who he was, but he had no choice. The one thing that he could say about his life was that he had kept his loyalty to Dumbledore since coming to Hogwarts. He would not break that bond now.

Snape stood and jabbed the sheaf of parchment at Lupin. "For your satchel - we cannot leave it here unprotected." He cleared the cauldrons with an emphatic jerk of his wand. He stepped close to the Pensieve and carefully stretched a very long silvery thread from his temple with the tip of his wand, letting it fall into the vessel. One after the other, Lupin and Snape bent to touch the silvery contents and fell forward into the office far below.


	6. Chapter 6

**Dumbledore's Legacy to the Half-Blood Prince **

**Chapter Six: In The Pensieve**

Albus Dumbledore looked relaxed as he sat at his desk reading a huge book. Small silver objects were whirring on a table near him, and his resplendent phoenix, Fawkes, was deeply asleep on his perch, his head under one wing. Quite a variety of snores came from the portraits on the wall, although Armando Dippet appeared to be playing a game of Gobstone Solitaire.

Snape, with Lupin beside him, looked at Dumbledore and then quickly away. In contrast, Lupin gazed at Dumbledore as though longing to greet an old friend.

Dumbledore seemed to be expecting the knock when it came, and called "Come in." A painfully gaunt young man of twenty-two years opened the door. He had a curtain of greasy black hair parted by his large nose. His thin lips were firmly set in a scowl.

"Come in, come in, Severus." Dumbledore pointed to a chair. "I believe it has been four years since you were here as a student? And you have been _quite_ busy since then."

"I'm leaving the Dark Lord - I can't be a part of - be one of his Death Eaters anymore." Snape swallowed painfully as he continued in a hurried, flat tone. "And I must tell you that the Dark Lord is planning to take action, to kill the baby mentioned in the prophecy. I do not know more than that."

Dumbledore said in a mild voice, "Ah, yes, the prophecy. Tell me... how did Voldemort receive the news last year?"

"That is all I have to say." Snape's face was obstinate in expression.

As Snape watched his Pensieve-self, he remembered how he had hated Dumbledore's casual response. He had not been sure if Dumbledore was an ancient fool or an omniscient presence. He remembered being able to easily block the Headmaster's entrance to his mind.

"If you plan to desert Voldemort..." Dumbledore watched as Snape winced, "you do know that the chances of survival are low, virtually zero?" He continued to look deeply into Snape's eyes.

Snape's expression was shuttered as he stated, "I'll take my chances."

Dumbledore's eyes snapped with impatience. "Severus, you are a Death Eater. Surely Voldemort's latest plan is no different than any other. Even if you haven't killed yet for Voldemort, surely you have prepared the Dark magic needed for his many murders. You will have to do better than this. Why come to me now? Does this have anything to do with James and Lily Potter?"

For the first time during the interview, Snape's control cracked. "It has nothing to do with James Potter!" he snarled.

"You will never heal as long as you hold on to your hate, Severus." Snape stayed still, with his face in immobile rigid lines. Dumbledore sighed in sadness. "Why so much hatred, Severus? Tell me, my boy."

Snape lost all of his tenuous control. "I AM NOT YOUR BOY! DON'T EVER CALL ME THAT! YOU DON'T KNOW WHO I AM OR WHAT I'VE DONE!" He stood up with his wand raised; his breath was coming fast.

Dumbledore slowly raised his own wand and caused Snape's arm to drop. He walked over to Snape and grasped him by the shoulder. The young wizard flinched, and then relaxed, as though Dumbledore's hand was radiating tremendous warmth. "What, then? Severus, you will need to show me. You must know I cannot possibly use any information you want to give me unless I can be sure of your integrity."

On the night he had approached Dumbledore about Voldemort's plans, Snape had been fresh from four years of Death Eater activity. He was as much of a lost cause as it was possible to be. He had just made his first choice leading away from the Dark Lord, but only did so to avoid being part of the prophecy plan. He had no hope of redemption, no hope of a better way of life, until the touch of Dumbledore's hand.

Snape shifted uneasily next to Lupin. He remembered how Dumbledore's touch had evoked memories of his mother's lullabies and her soft kisses before bedtime, how it had recalled the sounds of his baby sister giggling at him and calling him "Zef" in her baby voice.

Dumbledore put slight pressure on Snape's shoulder, and the two wizards sat down. As though he were under a very powerful spell, Snape looked up into Dumbledore's eyes and began his story.

Haltingly, Snape told him about his baby sister and how she had died. How he, Snape, had been responsible. How he had lost his temper and shouted at his father. How the baby had cried for him - had reached towards him. How he caused the shelf to fall on his father and sister, crushing them to death. How his mother had called him a monster. How she had never forgiven him. And how he knew then that he WAS a monster, and a wizard.

Dumbledore waited for a moment and asked, "Is this why you have come, then, to save another baby when you could not save your own?"

Snape's face broke as he struggled to keep his emotions under control. He angrily blinked back his tears. "I didn't think...I never realized he would choose to act _now_...kill a _baby_...instead of waiting to assess the danger." He was shaking his head in disbelief. "A baby...so innocent, so helpless...so _small_." Snape's eyes widened as he stared into Dumbledore's face. "It was as though I suddenly _woke up_." A slight tremor ran through his body as he continued speaking with a new urgency. "It was my fault - I gave the Dark Lord the information. This cannot happen. I had to do _something_!"

Dumbledore continued to gaze at Snape and then nodded, as if to himself. He took his hand off Snape's shoulder. "And the identity of this baby from the prophecy?"

"The...Dark Lord...has not yet decided between the Potter or the Longbottom child, but he is preparing to attack soon, in a few months...he may target both."

Dumbledore asked Snape for a few more details about Voldemort's plan, and then sighed as he said, "I will take the necessary actions that this information dictates, Severus. Your help is most appreciated."

"Tell me, where will you go?" he continued. "You do know Voldemort has spies everywhere?"

Snape saw Lupin glance at him, and then look back at the Pensieve-Snape. He wanted to sit down, but did not want to give Lupin the satisfaction of knowing how shaken he was. Snape remembered how heavy and limp he had felt in his chair after revealing everything to Dumbledore. It had been the very first time he had told anyone about what he had done as a boy. He remembered that he could not understand how Dumbledore could be so calm, how he could be expressing concern about Snape's future plans.

The Pensieve-Snape slowly shook his head, as if to indicate that he had no certain plans.

"I can hide you, Severus, but I don't think you would be satisfied with that for long. I would like to offer you an alternate plan that might serve us both - I assume Voldemort still wants you inside Hogwarts as a spy?" Snape nodded silently. "Tell him you have been successful - that you have fooled me with a show of remorse and that I am an old fool that trusts too easily - and come here to Hogwarts. It will not be easy, but you are an accomplished Occlumens. The life of a double agent is a lonely one; you will be distrusted by some on both sides. But then - sadly - that is not new for you, is it?"

Snape's eyes flashed with anger, but then his features relaxed into a quiet acceptance of the truth. He looked exhausted. "I would like to teach Defense Against the Dark Arts."

Dumbledore's eyes twinkled. "You will be our new Potions professor, Severus. I'd like to keep you around for a while, and I think our Defense class would be too tempting for a... reformed Death Eater."

Snape's face stiffened in anger. "You don't trust me."

"I trust your intentions, Severus, and you have made the first step here today in earning that trust. You have much to learn, including the skill of producing a Patronus."

"That is weak magic; magic that depends on a _happy_ memory!" Snape sneered as he spoke.

"Ah yes, you have much to learn."

Snape and Lupin soared upwards away from the scene and landed back in the Prince attic.

Snape felt drained. He felt for the desk edge in front of him to keep himself from falling. Reliving the memory of his talk with Dumbledore had further opened his mind. He felt a great emptiness, matched only by the bitterness of having to share this memory with Lupin.

Lupin came forward with concern on his face, but Snape waved him off and ground out "Stay away from me, werewolf!" He regretted ever showing Lupin the memory. He regretted all he was doing and felt a deep resentment for Dumbledore and his demands of loyalty. Would he never be free of this millstone of obligation around his neck? He had not bargained for the pain of being peeled to the core.

Lupin said quietly "Severus...I am not the enemy. As long as you hold this hatred inside, you will always remain in danger of being lured by the likes of Voldemort. You were a small boy. You were in an impossible situation...and you know that juvenile magic can emerge in violent ways."

Snape looked away from Lupin. A strange expression appeared on his pale face. He felt a flame of anger for Lupin - how dare he think he understood? How dare Lupin attempt to console him?

After a moment, Snape straightened up, mustered his customary sarcasm, and glared as he said, "Well, was that good enough for you? Anything else that you might want to _view_, and then take back and share with _friends and family_?" He carefully removed the contents of the Pensieve and returned them to his temple.

Lupin studied Snape for a moment and then pulled out the notes from his satchel, placing them upon the large desk. The two men sat on opposite sides of the desk and Snape began to talk.

He withheld his mother's journal entries, but described briefly her connection with the Dark Lord. Snape first pointed out the general sections of research, and then went back to the specific information he thought would be most useful. He knew Dumbledore had talked briefly to Lupin before taking... _Potter_ (he could not even now think of the boy without sneering) to the Cave that last night, and was relieved that he did not have to review the Horcrux basics.

"As you can see, here is a list of specific Horcrux curses, all those that are known. Despiritus, Inferius, etc. One of these was most probably used in the Cave, but...Potter will know that. Some, as indicated, are designed to preserve the delicate soul fragment indefinitely, while others protect the Horcrux from discovery by an enemy. Either type of Curse will most likely cause serious injury, or even kill the intruder. If Potter and his friends can use this information, they may have a chance - a very slim chance - of destroying the Horcruxes unscathed."

Snape paused and leaned back in his chair. "I believe a bracelet of my mother's might be the missing Horcrux. She mentioned the Dark Lord's interest in it while writing in her diary. It originally belonged to Rowena Ravenclaw, and I have recorded the description for you here.

Lupin leaned forward with interest to scan the information. Snape continued, "The Dark Lord shares little of his travels, but I will do my best to collect information about his movements. They might reveal possible Horcrux locations; I do not know." He paused. "I do not know how much longer I can avoid his suspicion of me."

Lupin looked up with alarm. "What of your Occlumency skill? Does Voldemort suspect?"

Snape could not believe that he had just said out loud exactly what he had been thinking. The Half-Blood Prince really was growing weak and pathetic! "Of course not! But knowing Potter's level of...skill, I might be in need of St. Mungo's Old Age Division before he is successful."

Lupin assessed Snape curiously for a moment more before gathering up the scattered notes. "If I didn't know you would bite my head off, I would thank you for this information. I will discuss it with Harry, Ron, and Hermione directly. They, of course, will not be told that this came from you. You are not too...popular at the moment. And I will not share your...personal information with anyone. It is yours to share with whom you see fit."

"Oh, it is _mine_ to share? I wish I had known that when you hauled that Pensieve out!" Snape scowled as he bit out the words.

Lupin smiled. He told Snape he would refrain from communicating unless something of vital importance occurred. "If any secrets leak at this point, the plan is finished."

By the time Lupin departed it was dark outside. The stars were twinkling above through the London smog, but Snape was unaware of their beauty. He sat hunched, with his head in his hands, on an old dust-sheeted sofa. For so long he had the protection of Dumbledore, in addition to his toxic defensive wall. He had neither now.


	7. Chapter 7

**Dumbledore's Legacy to the Half-Blood Prince **

**Chapter Seven: The Phoenix Sings**

All was gloomy at Spinner's End. The November sky was a leaden gray, and Snape's small home looked worse than ever. The low light even robbed the straggly Michaelmas daisies of their color.

Lupin had just departed via the Floo Network and Snape was still digesting the content of their conference. This was the first time the two wizards had met since discussing the Horcrux research in the Prince attic. The catalyst for this rare meeting was Snape's news of an opportunity to ambush Voldemort.

In twelve days' time, on the night of December 4th, the Dark Lord would be meeting with Snape at the old Riddle manor. Wormtail and Nagini would be present, as they always were. This would be a rare opportunity to face him apart from most of his Death Eaters, in a location that already had an Anti-Apparition Jinx in place. The Order of the Phoenix hoped that if they could corner the Dark Lord like a rat in his hole, they would have a good chance of capturing him - even though most of them had never faced him in battle.

Lupin had told Snape that the Horcruxes, save one, had all been destroyed in the last few months. "All except Nagini, and she is usually by Voldemort's side, correct?"

"Yes," drawled Snape. "I presume the plan is to destroy her at the last moment, then - at the beginning of the ambush. If she is killed before that, the Dark Lord might well become suspicious - and may even check the safety of his other Horcruxes."

Lupin agreed and went on to describe how each Horcrux had been destroyed. Snape feigned boredom, but was interested despite himself.

The Slytherin locket had been recovered when Harry and his friends, Hermione Granger and Ron Weasley, had uncovered a small wall safe behind a portrait of Sirius's great-aunt, Lycoris Black, located in a second-floor bedroom at Number Twelve Grimmauld Place. They had used the "Eporem" counter-curse, which was designed to affect only inanimate substances, to destroy the locket's Horcrux. The released energy had unfortunately destroyed most of the second floor, but left the teenagers unscathed. Mrs. Black's portrait had been nearly impossible to stifle after that. Lupin thought the most likely explanation for the locket's location was that Regulus Black, Sirius's brother and a former Death Eater, had hidden it, but he was killed before he could return to destroy it.

It had taken quite a bit longer for the trio to find the Hufflepuff Cup Horcrux. Lupin related that Hermione was staunch in her belief that it would be hidden close to the scene of the murder of Hepzibah Smith, Helga Hufflepuff's descendant, while Ron thought they should search the Hufflepuff common room at Hogwarts. They had searched both locations thoroughly, finding only Doxies, Boggarts, and Pixies in the abandoned Smith house, and discarded Bertie Bott's Every Flavor Beans and Honeydukes gumdrops under the common room furniture. Hermione had then showed her brilliance (Snape snorted in response) by brewing a complicated Finders potion designed to locate a transfigured object, using a few strands of hair found on a brush in Hepzibah's house. The potion's magical mechanism linked the rightful owner's essence to the hidden object. After the three had located multiple mouldy dog chews, they decided they must have used a dog brush by mistake, and tried again. Snape had smirked unpleasantly at this part. Granger was such an insufferable know-it-all; surely she deserved this small comeuppance.

This time Hermione was successful, and a piece of decorative tile engraved with an ornate "H" had shimmered into an elegantly turned cup with delicate gold handles. The only injury after using the Malourves Curse to destroy the Horcrux was that Ron's freckles were blasted off his face, and Lupin described how ghostly white his skin had looked. Snape pretended a casual indifference but inwardly he thought that this must have been quite an improvement for young Weasley.

The last Horcrux had been the most difficult to find. They hoped it would be the Ravenclaw bracelet, but had no idea of where to look for it. Ron, still stubbornly sure there had to be a Horcrux at Hogwarts, had suggested they search the Ravenclaw common room. It was difficult to find a day to search without exciting the notice of the very astute Ravenclaws, but they finally picked a Hogsmeade weekend and Lupin persuaded Professor Flitwick, the Head of Ravenclaw House, to close the dormitories and common room for a half-day. The time had nearly expired when Harry noticed a pretty witch duelling in one of the portraits hung above a velvety blue couch. She had a bracelet on her wrist, one with five small cameos, each an ivory profile on a beautiful blue stone.

Lupin's lips twitched when he told Snape that it had been quite an ordeal for Harry, Ron, and Hermione to persuade the witch to surrender her bracelet. She had moaned that it had been hers for over fifty years. They had finally sent their Patronuses after her. The stag and small terrier had cornered the exhausted witch by a stream, and the river otter had prevented her from even taking a sip of cool water. Only then did she relinquish the trinket. The destruction of the bracelet Horcrux was conducted safely away from Hogwarts, first using the Kralahl Curse to combat the protective Dark magic, and then the Despiritus Curse to destroy the bit of soul that the object contained.

As Snape sat on his threadbare green chair, alone once again after Lupin's departure, his gaze drifted over the sitting room walls lined with ancient, leather-bound books. This was his collection, started long ago as a student at Hogwarts. His mother had faded into death the year after his O.W.L.s, and he had moved from the Prince mansion back to Spinner's End. He remembered gutting the rooms before establishing his own style, or lack of style. It had been a painfully laborious task, and had necessarily been done the Muggle way. He remembered wanting to start from the bare boards so as not to have any reminders of his childhood. That sixteen-year-old wizard had craved his own space, his own safe den, away from the disapproving eyes of the Princes, and the mausoleum atmosphere of their house.

Snape felt a particularly satiny spot on the arm of his chair and looked down. The lacy upholstery had been worn away into a glossy sheen in a few small spots. The lace and the ashy-green color reminded him of a specific fabric that had been worn by a most unique individual...

_... THE DARK LORD HAS THRICE SCARRED THE MASKED ONE... ONCE BY BLOOD, ONCE BY SHAME, AND ONCE BY SERVICE... IF THE MASK SHOULD FALL BEFORE THE PHOENIX SINGS, THE CHOSEN ONE WILL FAIL..._

The words of Sibyll Trelawney's prophecy, the second prophecy Snape had heard in his lifetime, resounded in his head. He remembered with crystal clarity when she had said those ill-fated words. He could even remember the warmth of the evening breezes that night and the slight whiff of cooking sherry that permeated her robes embroidered with cheap lace.

It had been at the end of term last year, soon after the chaos at the Department of Mysteries and Dolores Umbridge's departure from Hogwarts. Snape had been hurrying back to the castle from Hagrid's hut when he nearly bumped into the newly reinstated Divination Professor. Sibyll had excused herself with an air of irritation and disdain when she suddenly stiffened and clutched his arm with a talon-like grip. The hoarse voice, so unlike her usual simper, issued forth in a string of jagged syllables. Then, ending just as abruptly as she had begun, she had softened like a limp clinging vine, pressing close to his black robes until her eyes found his with a far-sighted stare of surprise.

"Really, Professor Snape! I am a respectable witch! Just _what_ do you think you're doing?" With that she had bustled away, giving him shocked looks over her shoulder and continuing to mutter her outrage.

Snape had stood there, slightly stunned, and then smirked sardonically to himself at the ridiculous presumption of Trelawney's outrage. _As if!_ As he continued on his way, he thought back to the strange words he had just heard. Did they mean what he thought they did? Should he share this information with Dumbledore? His feelings were always so ambivalent towards the Headmaster: he felt gratitude for the position at Hogwarts and the great gift of trust, envy of Dumbledore's favoritism for the Gryffindor House and Harry Potter, and resentment for all of the times when he felt overlooked or unheard.

He remembered arranging a meeting with Dumbledore to discuss this new prophecy. Sharing did not come easily to him - he tended to guard bits of information as zealously as a Norwegian Ridgeback might guard her eggs. However, this prophecy named the _Chosen One_ - Potter - and mentioned the phoenix - the Patronus and symbol for Dumbledore. And was he, Snape, the "masked one"? He had served the Dark Lord, that was true, and he did wear the mask of a double agent, but he was only one among many spies in this war. And what of the mention of "blood" and "shame"?

He and Dumbledore met soon after that, in the Headmaster's office. The students had already left and the castle was quiet as the professors tidied their classrooms. Dumbledore's expression had changed as Snape told him Trelawney's words. The agreeable wrinkles on the Headmaster's face disappeared into a harsh horizon, and the twinkles in his eyes were replaced by twin steel-grey thunderheads. Snape knew the Headmaster regarded prophecies as untameable creatures, incapable of being corralled.

"Do you believe I am the 'masked one'?" Snape felt a strange thrill to have been named in a prophecy, even as he hoped he was incorrect. "If so, how have I been scarred by blood and shame? Does that refer to my history as a Death Eater?"

Dumbledore paused, and then explained. "Severus, I have long believed your mother was affected in some way by Tom Riddle...by Voldemort. When she was just a second year - in the same House as Tom - she changed from a bright little girl, if rather too self-assured, to a scared, hunched little thing. Headmaster Dippet contacted her mother, but Mrs. Prince denied that anything had changed at home. I was Eileen's Transfiguration professor then and I have always regretted not paying more attention, but at the time I was focused on my elusive target, Grindelwald. If this presumption is correct, you _were_ scarred by blood - your mother's blood. Voldemort indirectly affected you by harming your mother and thus changing her behaviour towards you. Now, as for being scarred by shame...I don't know. Is it possible that you encountered Voldemort directly as a child?"

"I don't know...yes, I do think I remember one visit, but it was quite short. It was unremarkable..." Snape's sallow face was furrowed with the effort to remember. He felt a little sick to his stomach, but pinned it on the slightly turned treacle tart he had eaten earlier, not on the memory he was trying to recall.

"Yes...well...that was a long time ago. You may not be the one in question, but I believe you are the _best fit_. According to this prophecy, it is necessary for you to maintain your cover until 'after the Phoenix sings.'" Dumbledore's face was knotted in concentration. Snape had the distinct impression that he was processing information at an impossible rate. He felt intense power radiating from the older wizard.

"And Fawkes sings...when?" Snape waited for Dumbledore's response with a pretended diffidence.

"At times of great opportunity, great crisis, or great sorrow. We won't know which, until he does sing. Keep in mind that prophecies, like any tool, can be viewed as a valuable aid or as a weapon. They are as bewitching as quicksilver and can easily be as poisonous. A Blast-Ended Skrewt is no more dangerous than a Puffskein compared to a prophecy."

Snape felt impatient that the Headmaster did not think highly enough of him to know that he already knew this. "Yes, yes, but still, it is just a set of words, there for the two of us to use only if we choose."

"True, but the true danger of a prophecy lies in the minds of those who hear it, who act upon it, who believe in it. Severus, I have heard your poetic description of potions: 'bewitching the mind, ensnaring the senses.' That is just a taste on the tongue compared to the gluttonous lure of a prophecy. Of the few prophecies that are known, most have ended in tragedy. And all have proved true, so far. The question is this...did they come true because they were believed to be true and acted upon - whether desired or feared - or were they true independent of the listener? Is it possible to know something and yet not act on it? To resist the influence of predestination on your choices? To, in fact, act as though you had never heard the prophecy? That is a question for wiser men than I, Severus. I only know that I know virtually nothing about prophecies, save that they may be the most deadly things of all."

"What do we do, then? Should I never have brought it to your attention?" Snape understood the Headmaster's concerns, but at the same time was slightly annoyed that he seemed to have done the wrong thing again. Instead of credit, he was receiving criticism.

Dumbledore looked up and smiled at him. He waved his hand in an amiable manner and said, "No, no, you did the right thing. Forgive the ramblings of an old man."

Snape saw through the self-deprecating words. He knew the Headmaster was unrivalled in power and knowledge, except perhaps by the Dark Lord. He had seen Dumbledore's raw power overwhelm wizards as though they were mere paper dolls. The Headmaster's mind was like a magnifying glass in its ability to focus elemental magic. The times Snape had seen or heard about Dumbledore in action had become stories of legend. He had defeated Grindelwald, the Dark wizard who had held the world in a stranglehold of fear for decades. He had battled spectacularly with Voldemort and his Death Eaters during the first war. He had effortlessly captured an entire group of Death Eaters in the Ministry of Magic, and had successfully fought off the Dark Lord. Most recently, he had rescued Umbridge from the centaurs in the Forbidden Forest with his usual grace and calm.

After that conversation with Dumbledore, all had seemed to return to normal. Snape packed up his few possessions the next day and Disapparated to Spinner's End for the summer as soon as he stepped outside the Hogwarts gates. However, the usual peaceful days of summer study and preparation of potions that he packaged and sold to certain shops in Diagon Alley were interrupted, first by a repellent guest - Wormtail. It was supposedly a punishment for Wormtail, but it seemed to be the opposite for Snape. The quiet of his days was ruined by the scurrying presence of the small, sullen wizard. Second, there was the continued responsibility of attending meetings for both the Order and the Dark Lord. These meetings were occurring more often now that the war was in full swing. Third was the _little_ matter of Dumbledore's injury to his left hand. Dumbledore had refused to tell him very much, save that it was from a Dark Curse, and said that it could wait. Snape was able to stop the spread of damage, but couldn't restore the flesh of the hand. Finally, late one night, there came a knock on his door. To his great surprise, his visitors turned out to be Bellatrix and her sister, Narcissa Malfoy.

Snape had heard the Dark Lord mention Draco Malfoy's mission, and he had a personal connection with the boy's parents, an old one from the days at Hogwarts. Narcissa and her husband, Lucius, had been several years ahead of him at school and were the first to praise the vehemence of his feelings towards James Potter and his friends. Snape believed he would be in a good position to protect Draco and persuade him of his foolishness; besides, he couldn't stand Bellatrix. The loud witch had always been a thorn in his side, hungry for excitement, but not always _particular_ about where it came from. Snape had carefully hidden his smugness after debating her into silence on the night of her visit, but his victory was short-lived.

The third part of the Unbreakable Vow caught him off-guard. His hand twitched with the surprise of it and he almost broke the bond, but the prophecy was ringing in his ears...a detestable smile began to reappear on Bellatrix's face...and the frustration of always having to dissect every choice exploded into an unreasonable rejection of Dumbledore's caution. Snape said, "I will," for the third time.

Telling Dumbledore about the Vow had resulted into one of the few times he had seen the Headmaster so angry. The Headmaster expressed his disappointment in Snape's choice and talked about his deep concern for his beloved school. He criticized Snape for his pride, fear and resentment, which all led to Snape's taking the Unbreakable Vow. Snape knew Dumbledore was correct, but he hated to be blamed and struggled against the acceptance of the Headmaster's words by defending his actions. It was a relief when they were interrupted by a visit from the new Minster of Magic, Rufus Scrimgeour.

Snape remembered that last school year as a blur of activity and divided tasks. The Defense Against The Dark Arts position had been strangely unsatisfying. He couldn't understand it. Wasn't it what he had wanted all these years?

Potter was as much a tribulation as ever. He seemed to have gained a greater degree of arrogance over the summer, and even earned himself a detention the first day of class. Snape did not see how this boy could ever defeat the Dark Lord. Was Potter blaming him for Black's death? It certainly wasn't his fault that Black had decided to Disapparate off to the Ministry of Magic that night.

Draco's behaviour was a surprise. He had always been polite and eager to learn until he was given a taste of possible reward from the Dark Lord. Afterward, the foolish boy had constantly rebuffed Snape, as though afraid his professor wanted to steal his potential glory! Draco had refused any advice, and it was impossible to predict the next turn of his wild ideas. Dumbledore listened to all of Snape's information about Draco's movements politely but refused to discuss its implications. Snape had felt more strongly than ever that Potter was taking all of Dumbledore's attention away from where it should be - Draco, the Vow, and the latest prophecy. What did Dumbledore see in the boy?

Near the end of the year, in March, Dumbledore had finally talked to him about the Horcruxes and Eileen Prince's possible connection to them. Snape initially refused to go to the Prince mansion, but inside he was relieved that Dumbledore was finally sharing his thoughts. Dumbledore told Snape that he would need absolute, unquestioning obedience as this year continued. The net of the latest prophecy seemed to be tightening.

Then, on that last evening, Dumbledore had summoned him. This would be the night that he and Potter would go after the locket Horcrux in the cave. Dumbledore had told Snape that the Order would be patrolling the castle in case of trouble. Snape suggested that _he_ be the one to go with Dumbledore - after all, he was highly skilled in both the Dark and healing arts - and Potter could stay safe in bed. Dumbledore had refused his help, saying only that it was very good of him to offer, and Snape's stomach, as usual, clenched in resentment of the boy. Their short conversation ended with Dumbledore's request that Snape stay away from any _activity_ and get some rest.

Snape had still been in his office - he wasn't about to retire until Dumbledore returned - when Flitwick burst in, shouting about Death Eaters. He stunned Flitwick without even thinking about it. It was obvious that the over-excited professor would only get in his way. He had to find Draco. Was Dumbledore back yet? Snape needed to be on his own, to assess the situation, to figure out what Dumbledore needed him to do. He should have been with Dumbledore in the first place. It was a surprise to see Granger, with Luna Lovegood in tow, right outside his office, but Snape easily got rid of them by asking them to check on Flitwick. As he followed the battle noise and ran down the corridor, he saw a couple of Death Eaters run up the steps to the Astronomy Tower. He remembered feeling the ripple of Dark magic like a current of water on his face as he also rushed up those stairs.

When Snape burst out onto the tower ramparts, he took in the entire situation in a flash and, also like a cosmic black hole, none of his reaction was apparent on his closed, immobile face. Time seemed to slow down almost to a stop as he reached the heart-wrenching realization of what all of this meant. The pathetic figure of the man in front of him was sunk so low to the ground as to practically be kneeling. As Amycus began to speak, Snape heard the softest of sounds, "Severus..." and knew it was too late.

He pushed Draco aside; the boy looked scared. He caught a glimpse of the two brooms, and guessed Potter must be around.

Unbeknownst to the others watching, some with impatience tainted with bloodlust, Snape was reading a series of emotions and images from the man in front of him. Snape's prowess in Legilimency was nearly as expert as Dumbledore's, and he now employed this skill to understand what Dumbledore was wordlessly trying to communicate.

Dumbledore's desperation was unmistakable as he reminded Snape of his promise to obey him without question - to do what had to be done - to maintain his cover at all cost - to beware the prophecy - to survive so that he could help Potter defeat their common enemy. Dumbledore conveyed his last request with the conviction that the time to act was now.

Snape looked into that familiar face, the eyes now a watery grey with pain. He saw the trembling of the limbs, noted the blackened hand, and refused Dumbledore's plea with a look. This was more than he could possibly be expected to do - more than anyone could do - and still maintain his sanity. Dumbledore had saved him from the Dark Lord so long ago, only to abandon him now? To leave him to bear the brunt of the anger and hatred of most of the wizarding world? To be an outcast? He would be a hunted man, with no place to go save back to the Death Eaters. His love for Dumbledore (yes, he thought to himself with shock, it was love) joined hands with his fear of being abandoned. He continued to look at Dumbledore and again refused his command - his plea. He would not, and could not, end Dumbledore's life. This was too much to ask of him. Was he just a tool to discard after a messy task? Snape's face contorted with revulsion for what he was being asked to do.

This complicated wordless exchange between the two wizards had taken only seconds when Snape heard Dumbledore speak again.

"Severus...please..."

Snape felt something tear inside his chest as his resolve gave way. His heart filled, his mind choked, and his face remained twisted with self-revulsion and hatred for what he had to do.

With a great reflexive swing of his arm, Snape pointed his wand so that it was a rigid extension of his shoulder and shouted, "Avada Kedavra!"

His words seemed to hang in the air as he watched Dumbledore fly over the battlements. He didn't waste a second to check the accuracy or effect of his act. Snape knew the Killing Curse had found its mark. He had been _successful_. He immediately pushed Draco out before him and called to the other Death Eaters to make their escape. Although he was normally accorded at least superficial respect from the Dark Lord's followers, even he was surprised at their immediate response.

His face tightened as he remembered Potter calling him a coward. This was the Chosen One? This boy was going to rid them of the Dark Lord? He was the reason why Snape had ended Dumbledore's life? Snape had just done the unbelievable, the impossible, the unthinkable. He wanted to shut the boy up so badly that he came very close to hurting him. If it hadn't been for the Hippogriff, he might well have.

After ensuring that the Death Eaters, including Draco, had Disapparated once they were outside the gates, Snape had also Apparated - to a spot a short distance away. He wanted to check for any continued activity or pursuit and make sure all Death Eaters had left the grounds, but needed to get away from the brute swooping overhead. As he looked towards the gates, with Hogwarts beyond, he heard a rare sound. Snape's breath caught in his throat.

Fawkes was singing.


	8. Chapter 8

**Dumbledore's Legacy to the Half-Blood Prince **

**Chapter Eight: Snape Defeated**

It was December 4th, and as Snape prepared for his meeting with the Dark Lord, he kept his mind calm. He would approach this night, the night of the ambush, with his usual unequalled competence and self-control. It would be such a relief to expose his true allegiance at last and be done with this web of deceit that threatened to choke him. The respect his position had garnered in the beginning now paled in comparison to the sheer energy it took to maintain the ruse. Soon, his obligations to Dumbledore would finally be over...he would be vindicated of any whispers about his past as a Death Eater and Dumbledore's killer...and he would finally be left alone. Ah, what wouldn't he give to be able to hide away in some safe hole - a comfortable, well-equipped hole of course - and be _left alone_. No maddening students, no arrogant colleagues, no duties; just peace and quiet. He knew he wasn't meant to be part of a community, comfortable with his peers. What did any of them know after all, with their self-satisfied little lives, their families, their friendships and loves? Snape's nostrils flared as his mouth twisted with contempt.

Remus Lupin was almost bearable, he had to admit, and Minerva McGonagall had always been fair to him, but no, he had neither time nor the least shred of liking for the rest of that ilk. Could any of them have withstood the Dark Lord all of these years? Did any of them have his skill in Occlumency, in Defense Against the Dark Arts, in Potions? The answer was a definite "no." Were he invited, would he ever want to join in their meals, their chats, their amusements? Certainly not.

And even if he did want to join them, they wouldn't want him. He was different, and he would always be so.

Snape brought his mind back to the business at hand as he pulled his stiff cotton robes over his head. The plan was that Potter would focus on Nagini as his first objective. He would have the Gryffindor sword as well as a wand. There was no precedent for the destruction of a living Horcrux, so he would need to prepare himself well. Accompanying Potter would be Granger, Weasley, and thirteen members of the Order, including Remus Lupin, Nymphadora Tonks, Rubeus Hagrid, Alastor Moody, Minerva McGonagall, Kingsley Shacklebolt, Aberforth Dumbledore, and Arthur and Bill Weasley. The sheer number of members was important, for the Dark Lord was an unpredictable and powerful enemy. The Order as a whole had grumbled mightily about the fledgling wizards facing danger alongside them, but Lupin had explained to them about the necessity of Potter's presence and Nagini's death.

Meanwhile, Snape would play a faithful Death Eater until the moment he was needed to show his true allegiance to the Order, no matter when that moment came. The Order had deeply mixed feelings about Snape. They had received Dumbledore's letter and been reassured by Lupin that Snape was indeed loyal, but they preferred to stay alert to the danger of actually _trusting_ Snape. The memory of Dumbledore's death was much too fresh.

Lupin had arrived by Floo earlier that day, to tell him that Potter had nearly exploded with rage upon discovering Snape's involvement with the Horcrux research and the ambush. Potter had only agreed to come tonight under duress.

"I honestly can't blame Harry," Lupin had said, paying no mind when Snape sneered unpleasantly. "You've always treated him and the other Gryffindors horribly. Also - don't forget that Harry believes you wanted his parents' deaths...and he _directly witnessed _Dumbledore's death." Lupin had put his hand up impatiently when Snape began to sputter his indignation and continued to speak of the ambush plan.

Lupin related that the worry about the Priori Incantatem wand interference had been the subject of many late-night discussions at Grimmauld Place. Mr. Ollivander had finally been found labouring as a shepherd in the Anatolian Mountains, apparently under the impression that he was a Muggle. Filius Flitwick had lifted the Confundus Charm that had been placed upon him, but the wand-maker had one lingering effect from his sojourn - he refused to leave without bringing one of the giant Anatolian Shepherd dogs back with him. Ollivander said he had never known just how lonely he was.

As a result of Ollivander's return, Potter now had an additional wand: still holly and phoenix feather, still eleven inches, but the feather had not come from Fawkes. He had told Lupin that the wand seemed to work fine, but it just wasn't _the same_ somehow.

As Snape made the last rounds to check his security charms at Spinner's End, he pondered all of what Lupin had told him. He knew there was no room for error tonight. The Order was putting all of their Gobstones in order; if this plan failed it could be a disaster for the majority of the wizarding world. Although arrogant and overconfident, the Dark Lord would not leave himself so open to attack again...and Snape would no longer be in a position to maneuver an ambush.

Snape Apparated to Little Hangleton, appearing just outside the Riddle manor with a subtle pop. It was exactly 6:50 pm, and he was due to join the Dark Lord in ten minutes. The air was freezing but aromatic with the scent of the cedars that lined the decrepit main drive; Spinner's End smelled like a refuse heap in comparison. As he entered the dilapidated house and mounted the stairs to the landing, Snape steeled himself for the upcoming meeting.

Nagini was waiting for him on the stairs and preceded him into the parlour. The Dark Lord was reclining on an overstuffed armchair near the weakly sputtering fire while Wormtail was standing near him, fidgeting as though he didn't know what to do with himself. As the short wizard turned to Snape, his beady eyes gleamed with reflected golden light from the flames.

"Ah, here he is, Wormtail. I told you that our _Professor _would never disappoint us!" The Dark Lord indicated for Snape to take an adjacent chair with a sweeping wave of his skeletal hand. Nagini hissed and coiled around a leg of her master's chair. Snape and the Dark Lord began to talk, while Wormtail sat nervously on the edge of a third chair.

The forceful entrance of the Order irrevocably fractured the quiet of the room. Shacklebolt came first, with Hagrid and Moody on his heels. Snape could easily see the red-haired Weasleys as more wizards continued to storm into the room. He caught a glimpse of a mop of untidy black hair and looked deeply into the accompanying pair of accusing green eyes. The boy had grown; he looked harder somehow.

The Dark Lord stood slowly, almost languorously, in response to the violent interruption. His hands caressed his wand and his eyes moved from person to person, gazing with amusement at each. "Ah, there you are, Harry Potter, good...good."

Wormtail edged behind his master, but Snape noticed that the odious wizard glanced behind himself once or twice. Strange. Nagini began to slither away, towards a broken heating vent, in response to her master's subtle direction. With that, Snape knew he had to act. Nagini was crucial to the success of this evening.

Snape stepped towards the snake, carefully keeping the Dark Lord and Wormtail in sight, and cast a binding spell to hold her captive. Silver light shot from his wand...but was deflected. Snape began to turn in surprise and was hit from behind.

"Petrificus Totalus!"

As his body instantly stiffened and he slammed down to hit the floor on his back, Snape could see a torrent of Death Eaters overwhelm the room. They continued to pour out of the small adjoining room behind Wormtail until the flood finally narrowed to a trickle. The last to enter was Marcus Flint, a look of fear mingled with excitement on his boyish face.

Bellatrix stood over Snape, leering with rabid delight and still pointing her wand. She was almost drooling in her joy. "It was worth all those years in Azkaban just to be here now, Snape! You are mine!" Without taking her eyes from his face, she lifted her shoe and ground its sharp heel into his palm.

"Bella!" The sibilant tone sounded like an indulgent caress. "Remember, you may have him only when I am finished... Words will hurt him more - they will cut much deeper."

Snape couldn't see the members of the Order from where he lay, but he could hear some movement, including the wooden scrape of Moody's leg. There were urgent murmurs and a firm command to wait. He could hear Lupin's sure tone and Shacklebolt's bass murmur.

The Dark Lord - _Voldemort _- moved closer so Snape could easily see his face. The hem of his black damask robes was adorned with a pattern of tiny silver snakes. The bone-white face was grotesquely arranged into a gloating expression and he licked his lips as he began to speak, looking as though he was ready to devour Snape. He spoke as though he had all the time in the world and that he was determined to enjoy each moment of it.

"My dear Severus Snape...how the mighty have fallen! Did you really think I suspected nothing? Do you think I am a fool?" The casual voice had hardened for a moment into anger. It was as though Voldemort was torn between his pride in anticipating Snape's betrayal, and the anger that he had indeed been betrayed. Snape knew the pride had won when no Cruciatus Curse was produced. Voldemort placed the highest value on believing that he was in control.

"I kept sensing a flicker of something...not quite right...after Dumbledore's death, now you have proven me correct! Remember that no one ever betrays me, or leaves my service!" Voldemort's voice rang with triumph, and he looked up at his enemies arrayed against the wall. "Now, he has betrayed all of _you _- and you will each meet your death...here...tonight. But first, I want you to enjoy my little conversation with Severus. This is an early but special birthday present for me."

"Voldemort! Stop this nonsense. We have unfinished business!" Moody had clunked forward, wand raised. He was scowling with impatience. There was no hint of the prudence of caution.

A red flash streaked from Voldemort's wand, so fast it was a blur. Moody was lifted up and smacked into the wall behind him. A trickle of blood came from his mouth, and Tonks bent over the grizzled wizard to help him.

Snape's mind felt as if it was stuck in treacle. He tried to think of a way to release the Body-Bind, but his wand was lying inches from his right hand where it had clattered onto the floor.

In a tone of pure acid and revulsion, Voldemort turned back to Snape. "Do you think Dumbledore ever really cared about you? You have always been too soft - too weak - ever since you were a little boy playing with your...kestrel, was it? What did your dear, departed mother call you again...a monster? Do your _friends _know what you did that day, Severus?" Voldemort's tone grew more scathing as though he wanted to inspire as much fear and pain as possible. Snape's pupils dilated with surprise and shock. The ceiling above him seemed to start to spin.

"You can't even manage to set up a successful little party tonight for your friends. Can you blame me for thinking you are pitiful? You can't seem to do anything right, can you? But why..." the voice slowed to a drawl, "should I expect anything more from one who would murder his own sister...a defenseless baby?"

Snape's mind was reeling. He was drowning in his shame. It was true, everything the Dark Lord was saying about him. Snape watched Voldemort's hem slide over his polished boots as the powerful wizard took a step back.

"Now Bella... _now _you can have him."

As Bellatrix stepped forward, aiming her wand at Snape's head and beginning to form a Curse with her lips, the battle began. Snape could see some of it from where he lay.

Tonks immediately leaped towards Bellatrix and simultaneously cast a coppery stream of light at her. The suddenness of the attack caught the Dark witch off-guard, and she was knocked backwards away from Snape, hitting Fenrir Greyback full-on. Greyback's snarl changed to a grunt of pain when Bellatrix brought her wand down with a slashing movement. As Tonks and Bellatrix began to duel, Tonks skillfully maneuvered her opponent away from Snape.

Hagrid moved in front of a still-groggy Moody, blocking all curses as they ricocheted off his massive form. The half-giant held his trusty umbrella in hand and stunned an idiotically leering Crabbe as the Death Eater attempted to reach the injured ex-Auror.

Potter immediately tracked Nagini, and Snape saw him locate the snake just as she vanished through the broken vent. Potter's spell to stop her was blocked by the brutal-faced blond Death Eater that Snape knew as Cecil Willards. Potter immediately cast a nonverbal spell at him, but Willards's wand only puffed into the air before returning immediately to his hand. Potter glanced down at his new wand with shock and then quickly sent a loud "Impedimenta!" at the Death Eater. This time he was successful and Willards stumbled back, falling over Snape. The cruelly grinning Antonin Dolohov now came forward with Avery at his side, and they cornered Potter behind a dusty settee. Ron Weasley, sporting a limp and bloody left hand, raced forward to help his friend.

The grey-haired Dedalus Diggle and Elphias Doge were breathing hard as they duelled with the older Death Eaters, Mulciber and Nott. They were putting forth a game effort but were slowly forced backwards when dumpy Alecto joined the two Death Eaters.

Confusion raged in the small room as members of the Order and the Death Eaters spread out as they fought. The Order was only slightly outnumbered by the Death Eaters, but the addition of Voldemort made the outcome tragically clear. It took at least three opponents just to keep Voldemort in check, three more than they could afford. McGonagall, Shacklebolt and Aberforth were all struggling to contain the Dark wizard, and they were beginning to tire. Sturgis Podmore and Hestia Jones were exhibiting tremendous stamina and coordination as they protected the backs of these three laboring wizards, but they were hopelessly outnumbered. Rosier was somehow able to slip a curse in between the two and hit Shacklebolt on his right shoulder. The ebony-skinned Auror grunted in pain and changed his wand to the left hand to continue fighting.

Bill Weasley was fighting with Greyback now and had a determined look on his face. After singing the bestial Death Eater's hair with a jinx, he violently stunned him into an unconscious mass on the floor. He strode toward the fallen Greyback with a look of fury on his face, but his father yelled, "Leave him! Help the others!"

One of the Death Eaters, Amycus, was hit by a stray curse from Yaxley, but another, Travers, had immediately taken his place in duelling with Arthur Weasley. The Death Eaters had two other advantages in addition to their numbers: they didn't care who they hit, and they weren't averse to using Unforgivable Curses.

Snape had been bruised when a few people had inadvertently fallen on him, but was otherwise unharmed until he absorbed a stray Impediment Jinx and was slammed into a corner. He was now in a position to watch all of the action. He could see that the Order was being overrun and slowly forced into a defensive ring. Most were still fighting but at an impaired level - Moody was trying to force himself to his feet, Shacklebolt's right arm was dangling uselessly, Hagrid was staggering, and the older wizards were wheezing audibly as they defended themselves. Potter looked as though he wanted to throw his unpredictable wand a million miles away. He had tried to maneuver towards Bellatrix several times but was blocked at every turn; Snape could see Potter's eyes narrow into slits of rage every time he looked at the maniacal witch. All three of the youngest wizards were white-faced as they continued to fight. The Order was now trapped, unable to Disapparate or get to a door to escape. The Death Eaters were everywhere.

Tonks had just blocked two Cruciatus Curses in a row from Bellatrix, looking as though she couldn't hold on much longer, and the situation was desperate. The thuds of bodies being knocked down, screams of pain, and roared curses were deafening, and these battle sounds completely disguised a new noise.

Crack! Crack!

Snape saw Potter look down and then crouch in order to talk to one of two small house-elves. He recognized one of them, the green-eyed Dobby from Hogwarts. Young Weasley's face lightened with hope and he signalled to the others. Potter looked across the room to locate Snape and then back at Lupin. Moody's face darkened and he muttered something at Lupin, but Granger's expression changed to that determined one Snape remembered from Potions class. The bushy-haired teenager gestured towards Snape, and Potter nodded.

"Ehhh!" Jones made a sound as she was hit, and Podmore grabbed her as she slumped unconsciously. As though her grunt was a signal, the entire cluster of Order members began to move across the floor, except for those still duelling Voldemort. The circle of wizards continued to make the strange cohesive movements again and again. Snape finally realized they were coming towards him...for him. A tiny flame of hope was doused almost immediately by the shame of failure - and his wish to be left to die.

As they reached Snape and spread out to surround him, McGonagall, Shacklebolt, Aberforth and Bill Weasley peeled off from Voldemort to join them. Voldemort immediately brought up his wand and sent a green Killing Curse after them, but Lupin miraculously blocked it with a conjured shield. The Avada Kedavra Curse dented the thick bronze shield with tremendous force, causing Lupin to stagger backwards. Moody shot a surprised look at Lupin - this was no ordinary magic.

Snape felt a tiny foot tread on his ribs as he lay there amid the screams and chaos of the battle, and one moment later - with a Cra...aack! - he found himself in a quiet, crowded room. The house-elves had successfully formed an unbroken chain and Apparated all of them to the Burrow.

The mass of bodies tumbled over one another on the carpeted floor. Snape was left to lie helplessly until Arthur Weasley cast a quick "Finite." The ex-Professor stiffly pushed himself into a sitting position. He found his wand in his pocket and assumed one of the elves had recovered it. As he looked around at the Weasleys' living room, he realized the house-elves weren't able to Apparate them to Grimmauld Place because of its new Fidelius Charm, cast by McGonagall several months before. Most of the Order were now grouped around the two beaming creatures and were praising them in deeply grateful and astonished voices. Tears were glistening in Molly Weasley's eyes as she thanked the house-elves in a trembling voice.

"Is no trouble...no trouble...Winky and Dobby knew you were with bad wizards, very bad wizards, and He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named...Dobby would do anything for Harry Potter...Dobby misses Professor Dumbledore." Dobby wiped a tear from one of his large round eyes, and Winky nodded in agreement.

Most of the members of the Order were deeply shaken but had no life-threatening injuries. McGonagall, Podmore and Molly Weasley healed a series of cuts and scrapes and lifted a few hexes, while Lupin tended to Hestia Jones and Alastor Moody. Snape dragged himself into the kitchen and slumped onto a chair. He could hear the others beginning to discuss the events at the Riddle manor. Moody was muttering, "How could this have happened - the whole plan was ruined - what was he thinking - " before being hushed firmly by McGonagall.

Potter and Granger had followed Snape into the kitchen to prepare hot drinks for the Order. Working in companionable silence, they used their wands to heat the Conjured cocoa until steam was spiralling up from the mugs. Potter grimaced as his new wand splattered the kitchen worktop with whipped cream.

Before leaving the warm kitchen, Potter turned to stare at Snape. After several wordless moments, the young wizard shook his head slowly and left the room. He looked too exhausted to even speak.

Granger brought one of the hot drinks over for Snape. His black eyes were blank, and he couldn't even think how to respond to her. She placed the mug on the table, next to his hands.

Snape's mind was reeling with the confirmation that he was indeed worthless. He had now failed the Order, failed Dumbledore, and failed himself. He had always judged his own worth by his magical prowess, but he had _lain helplessly_ on the floor during the _entire _failed attack tonight.

He not only failed to assist the Order, but he had to be _rescued _by them. He was the opposite of an asset; he was a liability. Ever since the first spell he cast as a child in the Prince attic, he had methodically built up a self-image based on his skill and his power as a wizard. It was the core of who he was. Who he had _been. _

And yet...yet he had been saved from the Dark Lord - from Voldemort - at great risk to the Order. What kind of idiotic thinking was that? Snape didn't know how to get his mind around that concept - how to stretch its synapses enough to understand. It was almost as if he was valued, even though he was of "no value" to the Order. His head hurt, it felt like he was an exposed Flobberworm under a bright light. He felt as though he were suffocating in his shame.

When Lupin came in, many minutes later, his presence thankfully interrupted the disjointed flurry of Snape's thoughts. He didn't ask any questions, as though he knew Snape wasn't qualified to speak coherently, but he did bring Dumbledore's Pensieve. Snape's head reared back in surprise, and he began to turn away.

Lupin's voice sounded gentle but hid a core of steel. "All is not dark, Severus. All is not lost...yet. The strength of the Order depends on self-knowledge - on integrity." He didn't ask Snape to cooperate, but simply acted as though the impending Pensieve trip was something they had already agreed to do. Snape finally acquiesced wordlessly by touching his wand tip to his forehead, withdrawing a glistening silver thread, and letting this drop into the Pensieve.

He was aware of Lupin's hand still grasping the collar of his robe as the two wizards found themselves standing outside Snape's childhood home on Spinner's End. It was a lovely spring day. There were cultivated patches of deep pink pansies in the well-kept garden, their natural beauty belying the ugly scene in front of them. Snape and Lupin watched Snape's father discard the dead kestrel in the dustbin, grab his crying son and move impatiently through the kitchen door.

After releasing Snape, Lupin began to walk around the corner of the small house. Snape followed him slowly until they both stopped at the sight of Voldemort leaning against a window frame and listening intently. Snape's mouth opened in surprise. He had not been able to fully reconcile Voldemort's sneers at the Riddle manor with this memory, until this very instant. The old belief of his guilt had been too deeply entrenched.

Voldemort chuckled to himself, lifted his wand, and cast a deadly stream of green light right through the glass pane. In the green light, Voldemort's face contorted - he looked almost insane. His face relaxed with a satisfied expression just before he Disapparated. Snape's face blanched and he staggered as he heard the unmistakable cries coming from inside the house.

Lupin once more grabbed Snape by his collar and practically dragged him up and out of the Pensieve. Back in the Burrow, Snape stumbled up the stairs and into the nearest darkened bedroom. He groped his way towards a bed and sat down. His head sank into his hands as he hunched down into a defensive posture. He felt broken and raw. Deep, painful sobs emerged as though they were being torn one by one from his gut. Snape gasped for breath, his hands clenching into fists. Tears streamed down his harsh face and dripped onto his lap. He keened, "I loved you so much, Mum, I loved you..."

Lupin studied this wreck of a figure and went to sit next to him, shoulder to shoulder. He said nothing. The light in the room darkened further as Snape caught a glimpse of Molly Weasley at the door, concern on her face. She ushered the others behind her away, stepped back, and closed the door.

Snape was suspended in a tidal wave of elemental emotions; he wasn't sure which way was up. Waves of intense grief and pain smashed into him with awesome force, keeping him off-balance. He relived the horror of losing his mother's love and witnessing the deaths of his sister and father.

For the _very first time _in his life, Severus Snape was free to experience his grief without the poisonous interference of shame and self-hatred. The entire basis for his Dark ambitions began to unravel, its center no longer viable. His very self began to cave in until it imploded with the energy of a thousand stars.


	9. Chapter 9

_This is my final chapter of Dumbledore's Legacy to the Half-Blood Prince, and it is hard to let go. This story first lazily swam into my mind a few months after the release of Book Six, and began with the question: "How would Dumbledore let the Order know of Snape's continued loyalty?" The Patronus-encoded letters were the beginning of my answer._

_Although Jo Rowling's books focus on the journey of Harry Potter, my story has focused on Severus Snape and his emotional journey. My aim was to show a possible scenario for his release from the prison of his own hatreds, formed when he was seven and strengthened as he grew to adulthood. Snape was aided by Dumbledore, who in his wisdom knew he had to let Snape find his own way out. This is not meant to be an excuse for Snape's past as a Death Eater, or his cruelty as a Professor, but a possible explanation for Snape's internal motivations._

_Do I think Snape will undergo such a journey in book seven? I doubt it. My prediction is that Harry Potter will defeat Voldemort in a most heroic way with the support of his friends. But I do think Snape, waiting in the shadows, will prove to be of some essential use to Harry in this epic defeat._

**Dumbledore's Legacy to the Half-Blood Prince **

**Chapter Nine: The Legacy is Revealed**

Nagini's severed head made reflexive movements as though still trying to bite the young wizard standing near her. Her body continued to writhe as her lifeblood spattered the ground, and the huge diamond-patterned coils shuddered in agony.

Harry Potter wiped the Gryffindor sword clean with the hem of his robe and quickly brought out his wand, the one he had depended upon since he was eleven years old.

"_Luminellus Aris_!" A jet of light, so bright it appeared to be made of crystal, hit the two sections of the snake and formed a silvery cocoon around them. The cocoon bulged for a long moment as though restraining a powerful force, but then quickly shrank in on itself until imploding with a shriek.

Potter stood for a moment, breathing hard, and looked down at Voldemort's last Horcrux, now destroyed. Snape heard the quietest of whispers from his lips: "_That was for you, Professor. _"

"Harry, are you hurt? You're bleeding!" Granger's voice was edged with anxiety. She stood shivering to Potter's right, her wand also drawn.

In the gaslight streaming from the Burrow's windows, Snape walked quickly towards the boy and grasped his right sleeve. It was soaked with blood. After a quick jerk of his wand and muttered "_Tergeo_," he could see that the skin was marked with two ragged punctures. Potter's face continued to pale even as he tried to shrug off Snape's hand and insisted "I'm fine," in an urgent tone. He sounded almost frantic in his desire to join the battle. It was then that Snape heard the youngest Weasley shout in alarm, and he saw the girl's face in his mind as he stared into Potter's eyes.

Snape kept his grasp on Potter's arm as he began to trace the punctures with his wand tip. This was interrupted when Potter impatiently shook his sleeve back in place and turned towards the moonlit garden, but Snape could see that he was holding his injured arm in a guarded manner. Didn't Potter know that any physical weakness could severely limit his duelling capacity? He let the boy go; they were on extremely uneasy terms these days. He would be only too glad to see the last of that insufferable face after this was all over.

Snape swept after Potter and Granger, and the three ran towards the sound of an ongoing battle. It appeared to be centered on the far side of the hedge bordering the Burrow's garden.

* * *

It was the 6th of December, just two days after the failed ambush in the Riddle manor, and all three had just Apparated to the Burrow. Lupin's Patronus had alerted them to the attack just a few minutes earlier. This was an opportunity they could not afford to waste even though it appeared to be an obvious trap set by Voldemort.

In the brief slice of time since the ambush, Voldemort had expressed his fury over Potter's narrow escape through a rash of attacks. Two small Muggle children had been poisoned at an ice cream shop. One had died there in front of her hysterical mother, while the Dark Mark was sent into the winter sky. Fenrir Greyback had finally been killed by a pack of mutinous werewolves, but not before he had severely attacked Hestia Jones's young daughter. These recent attacks showed a most brutish violence as they targeted the most helpless-the very young. There was no luxury of time to set up Voldemort for an attack.

Snape was in a highly unusual state. He had exposed himself emotionally to Lupin and others, and had begun to grieve the loss of his family and childhood. He was finally able to see the violent imprint that Voldemort had stamped on his life and that of his family. He had indeed been marked by blood, shame and service, and now Severus Snape was consumed by his final promise to Dumbledore - to see that Voldemort was destroyed. He turned every molecule of grief into an unrelenting drive to see the Dark Lord finished. This determination was untainted by his usual flickering personal resentments towards the world. All else could wait. His disdain of his fellow wizards...his personal feelings towards Potter...his reality as Dumbledore's murderer...all must be set aside for this one great effort. It almost felt as though he was gathering all of his strength - aligning his will towards the same precise endpoint. He had never felt this way before.

* * *

Snape and the two teenagers forced their way through the brambly hedge. Potter stopped abruptly just in front of him; Voldemort already had a most effective hostage. The Dark Lord was standing a short distance away from them, holding a dazed Ginny Weasley prisoner in a caustic lariat of light. His laughter sounded with a sickening screech. Arthur Weasley was trying in vain to thrust his wife protectively behind him while keeping his wand trained upon Voldemort. Molly Weasley also had her wand out and was refusing to stay behind her husband. Their courage was matched only by the fear etched on their faces for their youngest child. Snape stilled his own adrenaline overload and carefully searched the battle for Lupin, whom he found dueling with two young Death Eaters alongside Ron Weasley.

For Snape, the battle was a nightmarish echo of the ambush a few nights before. The air crackled with tension as curses lit up dim figures running through the grass. The outcome looked bleak; Voldemort again held all the cards. There seemed to be twice as many Death Eaters as there were members of the Order, and Voldemort had already secured his bait...bait that galvanized Harry Potter into an impulsive rush towards him. Snape shifted his weight forward to grab Potter and pull him back, but it was too late. He barely touched Potter's collar before it slid through his fingers, and the boy was out of reach.

Lupin ran forward to block Potter's way. "Harry, no! This is what he wants - to have you in his power - to have control. Wait...wait until we can cause a diversion - we will separate him from Ginny." His eyes were wide with urgency as he vainly tried to persuade Potter to wait. "Harry, stop and think - you won't be able to help her if you're an easy mark."

But with a howl of pain, Potter leapt forward, and time appeared to slow to a crawl for Snape. It seemed to take Voldemort a millennium to simply turn his head, smile as if surprised, and open his mouth as if to begin a polite discourse with the _Chosen One_. Things had gone from bad to worse...much worse.

Granger rushed to follow Potter and received a Cruciatus Curse for her trouble. Keeping his wand trained on her, Antonin Dolohov quickly came forward. He had a look of joy on his face as he watched her flail on the ground, screaming as if she was being torn to pieces. Granger's screams made Snape feel as though his head was splitting apart, and this brought his state of slow motion to an abrupt halt. No student of his - of Hogwarts - would be tortured if he could stop it. He violently Stunned Dolohov, throwing him against a gnarled stump with a thud and ending the Cruciatus.

Suddenly, in his anger, Snape realized that he had made a cardinal mistake and left himself open to attack. And it came: Bellatrix sent a Cruciatus Curse towards his left side, which he was just barely able to block. She laughed shrilly as she deflected his counter-curse, and then he felt his hands pulled irresistibly backwards with an apparent Binding Spell sent from another direction.

"Finally, you dolt!" Bellatrix huffed at Willards, and then turned back to Snape. He could smell her rank scent of sweat as she pushed her face aggressively within an inch of his own. She sneered, "I've always hated you, _Snivellus_!" just as he bent his body to the side and, using the wand he still cradled in his bound hands, sent a Stunning Spell right at the maniacal witch's midriff.

"I've never liked you either, my dear." As Snape turned away from the fallen witch, he realized in surprise that his hands were once again free, and noticed that Willards was sprawled awkwardly on an uneven hump of ground. The blond Death Eater's eyes were closed and his mouth was slack. A stray stun perhaps? Snape looked around and received a greatly exaggerated bow from Mad-Eye Moody.

With his immediate foes now out of the way, Snape refocused on the central conflict between Voldemort and Potter. Potter was gesticulating angrily while Voldemort continued to preen by caressing his own bottom lip with a long white finger. Snape began to move determinedly toward the pair, which was quite difficult due to the crowded fray surrounding him. He deflected two jinxes from Amycus until the pudgy wizard was hit from behind by an incidental curse from another Death Eater. This escalated into a brawl between the two Death Eaters, punctuated by numerous hexes, until a furious Travers threatened them with the Cruciatus unless they stopped. Snape continued to rush towards Voldemort and Potter. He had only taken a few steps when Jugson began to aim a curse at him, but he sent the Death Eater whizzing through the air with a forceful jab of his wand. He had to get there in time. Potter was in no shape to duel, not with his injured wand arm.

As Snape dodged through the chaos, he could see that a laughing Voldemort had now edged Potter backwards. He knew the Dark Lord had been planning for this day since first regaining his sentience deep in the forests of Albania, the day he would humiliate and finally crush Harry Potter. Snape could feel the certainty deep in his bones - the time had come, and only one would survive.

As the ex-Potions Professor ducked behind a young oak tree, which splintered as it took the impact of a violet jet of light, he thought that the outcome was almost inescapable. Harry Potter with an injured wand arm. Harry Potter blinded by his love for Ginny Weasley and his hatred for Voldemort. Harry Potter with his mind and heart wide open. This was ridiculous; how could Dumbledore have expected this mere boy to be able to defeat the Dark Lord? What a waste - this talk of love as Potter's strength.

Snape was almost upon them when he saw Voldemort aim his wand at Potter and shout, "_Avada Kedavra_!" His eyes, ominous with their slit pupils, shone red. It looked as though the duel would be over before it began, but Potter suddenly responded to the attack. With a grimace of pain and an unbelievable effort, Potter brought up his wand arm, lifting more from his shoulder than his injured arm, and yelled, "Protego!" Snape came to a stop right in front of the two wizards and watched the green and red jets of energy meld into a rope of gold light.

Snape bellowed, "Lupin... Quickly!" as he moved to stand next to Potter.

"Get away, Snape!" Potter's voice was a snarl, heavy with effort.

Snape continued to call out names, "Granger, Weasley... Come!"

He was acting on an instinctive level. He knew somehow that he had to be there, and that he had to summon the others. He had to do all this before the Priori Incantatem Charm generated its chrysalis of gold around the duellists.

Voldemort appeared relaxed as he held effortlessly to his vibrating wand. He had quickly noticed that Harry could barely keep his own wand upright. "You do know what will happen, my young _friend_, after I force your wand to spill its pathetic history? You will be helpless for a few seconds while I finish you off. Did you never wonder why you had time to escape to Hogwarts on the night of my rebirth? The true danger of the Priori Incantatem is its refractory period - before the losing wand recovers!"

Snape was familiar with this principle - he had spent some time after the graveyard battle years earlier studying the Priori Incantatem effect.

The golden stream of light had already begun to splinter into multiple strands when Lupin reached them and ducked underneath, followed immediately by Granger and Weasley. Voldemort's eyes had not left his opponent. Snape knew that Voldemort's concentration would be on Potter alone - his ultimate prize. And Voldemort would know that he and Potter could not be harmed while linked in a Priori Incantatem enchantment. The six of them were as players on a stage now, locked into their roles within this charm.

Three blindingly bright beads of light, each about the size of a Snitch, had now formed on the main strand caught between Potter's and Voldemort's wands, and all three were sliding towards Potter. Snape noticed that Potter's wand was vibrating visibly and appeared slippery with sweat. Despite himself, he was amazed at the boy's tenacity. Perhaps Dumbledore _had _been correct about Potter's strength of will.

The beads of light continued to slide nearer Potter and the four wizards that flanked him.

Snape's mind was racing. He felt as if the answer to this crisis was almost within his grasp. Even if he had failed miserably in the ambush, he had to be able to make a difference here. There had to be a reason Dumbledore had wanted him to survive. Hampered by the need to block Voldemort's grasping mind, Snape groped for a way to surprise his old Master - to break his control over this situation. And with that very thought, he suddenly recalled a few lines of slanted writing written in a familiar hand. He remembered reading this message on that memorable morning, one short week after Dumbledore's death.

"_...I tell you all this now because this is a time for clarity, a time to know your own strengths and weaknesses... To know yourself. _"

Quickly! What were his strengths? Occlumency, the Dark Arts and defense against them, knowledge of Voldemort's strategies, and Potions..._Potions_...Golpalott's Third Law... _could it be applied to this situation_? Snape's mind raced. The antidote for a blended poison will be equal to more than the sum of the antidotes for each of the separate components. When the components were blended, an additional characteristic sprang into existence, adding another dimension. The individual ingredients transformed into more than the sum of the parts. What here fit this concept?

And what were his weaknesses? His emotions, his isolation, and his refusal to join others. Snape would not have been able to define the last two as weaknesses before the ambush. He had always blamed his isolation on others, never on his own choices.

A possibility was just beginning to form in his mind - an uneasy blend of potion and wand theories. There was no more time to tease out the details. Potter's wand was visibly drooping with the strain of the vibrating energy of the enchantment, the closest bead almost touching its tip.

Snape caught Lupin's eye, pointed his wand just in front of the nearest bead of light, and shouted, "_Protego_!" A red jet connected with the gold strand crackling between Potter and Voldemort's wandtips, sizzled for a moment as if in rejection, and then reluctantly joined the gold. Lupin's Protego charm followed almost simultaneously, followed by Granger and Weasley's. In the next instant, the deep red of the additional spells had changed to assume the unbearable brightness of the main gold connection. Snape noticed that the thickness of the gold strand remained the same - the additional Protego spells had not added any cumulative power.

He glanced at each of the others in turn. He sensed doubt from Lupin - that this wasn't the way the Priori Incantatem works - mingled with hope in Snape. He could feel fear overridden by a questioning of this technique from Granger - she was trying to figure it out. Weasley was exuding a strong imprint of loyalty and steadfastness. But from Potter he sensed an ebbing of strength and hope. The boy's face, greyish ivory in color now, was beaded with sweat. His face was set in a grimace of determination and pain.

Voldemort grinned in anticipated victory and greedy delight. His skin stretched tight around the cavern of his mouth. He appeared to be holding his quivering wand with almost casual grace. "Severus, I am surprised at your shortsightedness. When you join your strength to another's Priori spell, each of you are proportionately weakened. The five of you together are barely stronger than Potter alone. A mended tear will never be as strong as the original cloth. When this thing is done, _each _of you will be helpless; _each _of you will be affected by my Curse simultaneously. You have taken a needless risk, and I will have five more deaths to my credit!"

There was a stillness among their audience. Both the Death Eaters and members of the Order were helplessly watching this definitive struggle inside the golden cage of light. Their breath formed little white puffs in the freezing winter air.

Suddenly a sound emerged from the silence. Freed when Voldemort shifted his focus to Potter, Ginny had been revived by her parents and spied the battle of wills taking place near her. "Don't let go," she cried out in a piercingly sweet voice. "I love you, Harry, don't let go!"

The sound of her voice rippled through Snape in a disturbing way. As he turned towards Potter, he almost reflexively flinched backwards. There was an aura of intensity surrounding Potter, an intangible warmth so invasive, so saturated, that it was frightening. Snape resisted it with all the strength he could summon, but it still felt as deadly as standing next to the sun. The beads, though still coming closer, had slowed greatly. Potter had regained some color in his face.

Voldemort seemed unaware of the change. "You have made it much easier than it would have been, Severus!" But his mouth slackened as Snape began to whisper in a hoarse voice.

"What! What is that?" Voldemort strained to hear Snape's words.

"Golpalott's Third Law," murmured Snape. "Blended components transform into more than the sum of the parts. A newly created characteristic...another dimension..."

Lupin started in comprehension, and stepped closer to Harry, placing a hand on Harry's left shoulder. Granger and Weasley followed suit, forming a physical bond with Potter. Snape grasped Lupin's shoulder.

This was right, he could feel it. Along with the rightness, an uncomfortable sensation began deep in Snape's core. His very ribcage ached with the strain of it. He could feel a lightness, a warmth where there had long been cold. And with that, there was a subtle change in the air. It was no longer quiet as an indescribable sound began. A sound so soft at first that Snape wasn't sure he was hearing anything at all. It was song, as tangible and cheering to him as a hot meal to a cold, hungry man. The sound of phoenix song.

The blazing intensity surrounding Potter had now spread to everyone touching him, even to Snape; it felt as though he would be burned alive with the force of it. It was nearly unbearable.

It was clear that the crude hybrid spell he had fashioned from Golpalott's Third Law and the ancient magic of unity had been magnified by first Potter and then the catalyst of Fawkes's song.

Voldemort's face reflected his disbelief. He joined both his skeletal hands on his wand and tried to force a last bit of effort in an attempt to repel the beads. Fear flitted across the haggard features for a moment, but then was replaced by supreme arrogance. "You will never kill me, Harry Potter," he spat in tones of hatred. "I am like the very air that you breathe. I will be with you forever. I will hunt you down, and hunt down all whom you love. There will never be an escape for you."

But just before Voldemort's wand was captured, true terror finally appeared on his features. Snape knew that his old master must have finally realized that his Horcruxes were no more. Perhaps it was a visceral realization, reached as his tattered soul called out for its brothers and found them gone.

Voldemort's eyes widened in harness with his mouth and his angular frame stiffened. The golden rope binding his wand to Potter's spilled like a splash of watercolor pigment on wet paper and slashed out at Voldemort in one broad, green bolt of force. The strength of the Protego spell, fundamentally transformed by ancient Priori magic, blocked even the Killing Curse and sent it screaming back towards its originator.

For the second time, Voldemort was hit with his own weapon of destruction, while staring into the eyes of a black-haired boy. But this time, there were no Horcruxes available to anchor his essence to earth. With a tiny puff, softer than a sigh, Voldemort's carcass collapsed into nothing. There was no heightened dramatic ending for the Dark Lord, only a forgettable fizzle. Quite fitting, Snape realized, for the man that had destroyed himself long ago with his first Horcrux.

There were gasps of disbelief from the men and women watching. Tears of joy ran down the faces of several Order members. The Death Eaters showed a great variety of reactions: some sank to their knees in fear, watching the tufts of blighted grass where their Lord had stood, while others ran for the hedge. And a tiny third group, led by Bellatrix, sounded a battle cry and turned to attack with ferocity; the Order members quickly subdued this vain effort. The light of hope shone in every face loyal to Dumbledore's mission as they competently rounded up all the Death Eaters. Ropes snaked out of thin air in every direction. Antonin Dolohov grunted in real terror as he watched the Dark Mark fading rapidly from his left wrist. Bellatrix, her hands now bound behind her, sank to her knees, sobbing hysterically, but she still had the presence of mind to snarl at anyone who approached her.

A reddish-gold blur settled down to sit on Potter's right shoulder. Harry, his left arm slung around a mistily smiling Ginny's shoulders, watched contentedly as his injured right arm was healed with the diamond-bright drops of Fawkes's tears. Snape realized that the phoenix song had stopped; he wasn't quite sure when this had happened. He turned abruptly from watching Harry; this was no time to daydream. He would finish what needed to be done and leave.

He started to stride forward, but his progress was halted by a heavy warmth on his own arm. Fawkes was gazing directly into his eyes, and he was reminded keenly of Mina. The sound and action of the scene faded to a stillness, and Snape felt caught in the black glitter of Fawkes's stare. A wave of heat came into his face, and he shivered.

It was then that he realized that Dumbledore had saved him. Snape realized that he had never been an oversight, a necessary casualty, or a mere cog in the machine of Dumbledore's plans. That Dumbledore had _never _valued him only as a way to assist Potter.

Dumbledore's legacy to Snape had been to encourage him to open his heart. Through Fawkes, Snape finally realized that Dumbledore's true legacy was the capacity for love. A final cognitive shift happened here for Snape, which he would spend the rest of his life translating into emotional belief and behavior.

Fawkes's shape blurred momentarily, and then cleared as Snape blinked twice. The great bird took flight once more. Snape turned to find Harry, and his eyes locked with a pair of green ones already considering him with a most somber expression.

The stare lengthened as the two men continued to appraise each other. They would never be friends; there was too great a history of pain when they looked at each other. However, each found the other to be of great courage and worthy of respect. And that was enough.

Epilogue

Severus Snape groaned as he opened his eyes and shifted his weight on the firm mattress, just as he had done on that spring morning two years ago, when he had first received Dumbledore's letter. There was a little more flesh on his bones now, and the hollows of his cheeks had softened a bit. The shaggy black hair was clean but included a few strands of grey.

He was back at Hogwarts, but in the guest lecturer's quarters this time. It was amazing that such dunderheads were even allowed into Advanced Potions these days. The elder Creevey boy, now in his seventh year, seemed to not even know which end of his cauldron was up. Although Snape had no real authority, it felt good to threaten the loss of a few House points yesterday. He had had to turn away quickly before the students could see his amusement when a short Ravenclaw girl inhaled a bit too much stewed Hilaris and treated them all to a rousing chorus of "Here We Come A-Wassailing." It wouldn't be fitting to let a sense of familiarity develop between teacher and student.

A knock sounded on the door. That would be the Headmaster coming by to collect him for breakfast. Snape barely had time to utter, "Come!" when a shaggy head came around the door.

"Not dressed yet? You're slipping, Snape. Good luck for us that we don't have to deal with your laziness on a routine basis." Lupin's exaggerated look of censure melted into a wolfish grin.

* * *

Snape had been fully pardoned for his actions on the Astronomy Tower by the Wizengamot, based on a majority vote of "extenuating magical circumstances". This vote was finally reached by the high court after hearing lengthy testimony from members of the Order, several Aurors, and an Auror-in-training, Harry Potter himself. Snape had maintained a surly expression throughout the trial, but Lupin, sitting hand-in-hand with Tonks, noticed a tremor in Snape's left hand when the verdict had been released.

Amidst a great deal of protest from the Ministry of Magic, Lupin had been appointed to the position of Headmaster last year. His opponents had cited everything from his lack of experience to his "wolfish tendencies". These arguments were successfully countered by his decorated war hero status, a full vote of confidence from the wizarding public and the Hogwarts School Board of Governors, and the availability of Snape's new extended-release Wolfsbane Potion.

* * *

"And isn't it too bad Minerva wanted to continue teaching Transfiguration to her beloved students, or you would be out in a wooded glen somewhere, readying yourself to howl at the moon tonight," Snape drawled in a biting voice. He peered down at the schedule on his desk. "Oh, joy, the Patil twins will be here at the Old Students Lunch, favoring us with their presence. Is it necessary that I be there for the frivolity?"

"Don't pretend you aren't planning to autograph some copies of your new Potions book at lunch, Snape. It really would be a most amusing sight; we could always refer to you as _Gilderoy_." Lupin seemed to make no attempt to keep his laughter to himself.

_As if wild Thestrals could drag an autograph out of him_! Snape whirled around from his wardrobe with wand in hand. A moment later, Lupin was no longer laughing as he suddenly became busy with restoring his tongue to its original length.

Lupin cleared his throat, and maintained his serious expression. "Molly was wondering if you would like to come for dinner next week - it will be a reunion of the old Order and the new guard. I know you're a solitary old cuss, but before you say no, will you at least think about it? You've never joined us for a meal yet, but..."

Snape groaned as if the idea was torture, paused for a long moment as if trying to think of some plausible excuse...and then accepted.

The End


End file.
